&• 


REESE    LIBRARY 


UNIVERSITY   OF   CALIFORNIA. 


Received. 
Accessions  i 


<etfNo.—  < 


O* 


•SO 


J 


RAMBLES  AMONG  WORDS: 


tlirir  ftortri),  $ist0n)  flirt  Dis&om. 


WILLIAM  SWINTON. 
•  i    v  .     *» 


POLONIES.— What  do  you  read,  my  lord  ? 
HAMLET.— Words,  words,  words. 

Hamlet. 


UNIVERSITY 

CHARLES  SCRIBNER,  124  GRAND  STREET. 

LONDON:  SAMPSON  Low,  SON  &  Co. 
MDCCCLIX. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1859,  by 

WILLIAM  SWINTON, 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States  for  the  Southern 
District  of  New  York. 


R.    CKAIGHEAD, 

Printer,  Stereotyper,  and  Electrotyper, 

Carton  Sttilfctng, 

81,  83,  and  85  Centre  Street, 


L'E  N  v  01. 


THESE  pages  present  some  fifteen  hundred  illustrations  of  the 
Poetry,  History  and  Wisdom  of  Words.  For  it  has  dawned  on 
the  thought  of  modern  times  that  Language,  too,  is  a  living 
organism.  Language  is  indeed  the  grand  spiritual  fact  of  huma- 
nity. In  speech  man  incarnates  himself.  It  paints — as  I  have 
elsewhere  said — humanity,  its  thoughts,  struggles,  longings: 
paints  them  on  a  canvas  of  breath,  in  the  colors  of  life. 

Some  of  the  themes  of  the  Rambles  I  have  already  impinged 
on  in  a  series  of  papers  in  PUTNAM'S  MONTHLY  for  1854.  These 
papers  I  have  not  incorporated  in  the  present  volume.  I  may 
mention,  though,  that  the  whole  book  was  written  half-a-dozen 
years  ago ;  and  how  often  does  one  find  after  that  lapse  of  time 
that  his  pages  have  but  a  biographic  significance  ! 

These  Rambles  among  Words  have  a  reference  to  all  previous 
contributions  to  the  illustration  of  the  English  Language.  Of 
these  the  one  that  has  attained  most  popularity  is  the  little 
volume  of  Mr.  Trench  on  the  "  Study  of  Words."  We  are  all 
indebted  to  Mr.  Trench  for  his  pleasant  volume.  It  is  to  be 


iv  L'Envoi.- 

well  understood,  however,  that  this  book  does  not  stand  alone. 
Home  Tooke,  in  that  piece  of  fiery  inspiration,  the  "  Diversions 
of  Purley,"  had  given  the  seminal  suggestions  of  many  such. 
Pegge,  and  Harrison,  and  Thomson,  and  Nares,  had,  among  others, 
contributed.  And  old  Verstegan,  more  than  two  centuries  ago, 
has,  in  his  "  Restitution  of  Decayed  Intelligence,"  drawn  certain 
lines  that  leave  subsequent  writers  no  choice  but  to  follow. 

Of  the  themes  around  which  I  have  clustered  my  illustrations, 
those'on  the  WORK  OF  THE  SENSES,  the  IDEALISM  OF  WORDS,  WORDS 
OF  ABUSE,  and  the  FANCIFUL  AND  FANTASTIC  IN  WORDS,  will  be  found 
new  constructions  of  the  philosophy  of  the  English  Language. 
Finally,  in  the  exploration  of  regions  already  in  a  measure  en- 
tered on,  as  in  the  Historical  and  Ethical  element  in  Words — 
I  have  directed  my  researches  into  new  fields ;  and  of  the  fifteen 
hundred  Words  which  the  Rambles  illustrate,  the  vast  majority 
have  never  before  been  used  in  the  way  of  etymologic  illustra- 
tion. I  have  labored  all  along  under  the  embarras  des  richesses, 
and  many  things  I  have  been  compelled  to  leave  over  to  a  little 
volume  now  in  preparation  on  "  The  Unworked  Mines  of  the 
English  Language." 

Niw  YOBK,  April  28, 1859. 


PROGRAMME. 


PAGB 

Premonitory,     ..........        7 


The  "Work  of  the  Senses,  ........      20 

&am*U  TOrfr. 
The  Idealism  of  Words,     ........      31 

3Hamile  JFourtf). 
Fossil  Poetries,          ......        .        .        .56 

aaamilt  jFtftf). 
FossU  Histories,         .........      74 

aaamiU  5fxtl). 
Words  of  Abuse,       .........     109 

&anrf>It  Sjefantf). 
Fancies  and  Fantastics,      ........     139 

aaambU  Btfl^ft. 
Verbal  Ethics,  ..........     176 

aaamiU  N(nl|. 
Medals  in  Names,      .........     200 

3Etam6I«  QUmft. 
Synonyms  and  their  Suggestions,       ......     230 

3aamiT*  35leb*ntf). 
The  Growth  of  Words,      ........    265 

aaamilje  Qttojtlftt. 
English  in  America,  .........     28C 


OF 

UNIVERSITY 


RAMBLE  FIRST. 

PREMONITORY. 

JOHN  STERLING  records  that  when  about  nine  years 
old  he  was  struck  that  the  word  sincere  was  derived 
from  the  practice  of  filling  up  flaws  in  furniture  with 
wax,  whence  sine  cera  came  to  mean  pure,  not  vamped 
up.  This  explanation  he  says  gave  him  great  plea- 
sure and  abode  in  his  memory  as  having  first  shown 
him  that  there  is  a  reason  in  Words  as  well  as  in 
things* 

I  suppose  many  of  us  are  conscious  of  having  made 
similar  pleasurable  discoveries.  "With  what  exultation 
have  I  many  a  time  welcomed  the  flashing  across  my 
mind  of  the  interior  import  of  a  word,  revealing  some 
deep  analogy  or  subtle  beauty  or  furnishing  a  new 
and  pungent  pointing  to  some  old  moral.,  Nor  can  I 
imagine  it  possible  to  awaken  without  a  thrill  of 
delight  to  the  first  consciousness  of  such  meanings  as 
are  wrapt  up  in  'WRONG,'  which  is  just  something 


8  Ramble  First. 

wrung  or  distorted  from  the  right — 'HEAVEN,'  the 
firmament  heaved  or  heaven  up  over  us — *  SUBTLE,' 
whose  primary  meaning  is  fine  spun — '  MISER,'  which 
is  just  miserable ;  or  learn  without  a  glow  of  lively 
satisfaction  that  'ABSURD'  implies  a  malappropriate 
reply  such  as  might  come  from  a  surdus  or  deaf  man, 
who,  knowing  nothing  of  the  antecedents  of  the  con- 
versation, would  of  course  be  apt  to  answer  absurdly  / 
that  a  'CLOWN'  is  simply  a  colonus  or  tiller  of  the 
ground ;  that  'SCOUNDREL'  conceals  in  its  composition 
a  soldier  who  absconds  at  muster-re^;  that  'RIVALS' 
are,  etymqlogically,  dwellers  on  the  banks  of  the 
same  rivulet  or  stream — a  circumstance  so  apt  to  give 
rise  to  quarrels  and  bickerings ;  or  that  '  SYCOPHANT  ' 
shuts  up  a  curious  piece  of  Greek  history  and  alludes 
to  persons  informing  on  individuals  exporting  figs — 
syca — from  Attica. 

The  copiousness  of  meaning  which  Words  enwrap  is 
indeed  more  than  all  that  was  said  or  thought.  Chil- 
dren of  the  mind,  they  reflect  the  manifold  richness  of 
man's  faculties  and  affections.  In  language  is  incarnated 
man's  unconscious  passionate  creative  energy.  There 
is  an  endless,  indefinable,  tantalizing  charm  in  Words. 
They  bring  the  eternal  provocations  of  personality. 
They  come  back  to  us  with  that  alienated  majesty 
which  a  great  writer  ascribes  to  our  own  thoughts. 


Premonitory.  9 

They  are  the  sanctuary  of  the  intuitions.  They  paint 
humanity,  its  thoughts,  longings,  aspirations,  struggles, 
failures — paint  them  on  a  canvas  of  breath,  in  the 
colors  of  life. 

To  the  illustration  of  the  opulences  of  "Words  I 
design  these  pages:  with  Runic  spells  to  evoke  the 
pagan  wanderers  from  their  homes  in  the  visionary 
eld— to  read  some  of  the  strange  lessons  they  teach, 
to  catch  of  the  wit  and  the  wisdom,  the  puns  and  the 
poetries,  the  philosophies,  the  fancies  and  the  follies 
that  lurk  in  and  flash  out  from  them,  and  to  seize, 
flaming  down,  as  it  were,  from  the  "firmament  of 
bards  and  sages,"  some  of  the  deep  analogies,  the 
spiritual  significance,  the  poetic  beauty  and  the  rich 
humor  that  sport  and  dwell  in  even  our  common, 
every-day  words  and  phrases. 

Of  course  we  shall  ramble,  now  chasing  some  gay 
etymologic  butterfly,  anon  lingering  'neath  the  palm 
and  plantain  of  genius  or  lonely  wandering  'mid 

The  intelligible  forms  of  ancient  poets, 

The  fair  humanities  of  old  religion, 

The  power,  the  beauty  and  the  majesty 

That  have  their  haunts  in  dale  or  piny  mountains, 

Or  forest,  by  slow  stream  or  pebbly  spring, 

Or  chasms  and  watery  depths. 


io  Ramble  First. 

Medals  of  the  mind  we  may  call  words.  And  as 
the  medals  of  creation  from  the  Geologic  world  reveal 
the  workings  of  creative  energy  and  the  successive 
developments  of  the  divine  idea,  so  Words  present  a 
humanitary  Geology  where  histories,  philosophies  and 
ethics  lie  embodied  and  embalmed.  But  this  is  a 
spiritual  Geology,  its  strata  built  up  of  the  rich 
deposits  of  mind.  With  passionate  fervor  man  pours 
himself  on  nature.  An  irrepressible  longing  to 
express  his  secret  sense  of  his  unity  with  nature  pos- 
sesses him :  and  from  the  consciousness,  all  plastic  and 
aglow,  rush  Words,  infinitely  free,  rich  and  varied, 
laden  with  pathos  and  power,  with  passion,  poetry, 
humor,  thought.  , 

Of  course  Language  is  a  living  Original.  It  is  not 
made  but  grows.  The  growth  of  language  repeats  the 
growth  of  the  plant.  At  first  it  is  only  root:  next 
it  puts  forth  a  stem,  then  leaves,  and  finally  blossoms. 
"  One  must  not,"  writes  William  YonHumboldt,  "con- 
sider a  language  as  a  product  dead  and  formed  but 
once :  it  is  an  animate  being  and  ever  creative.  Hu- 
man thought  elaborates  itself  with  the  progress  of 
intelligence  ;  and  of  this  thought  language  is  a  mani- 
festation. An  idiom  cannot  therefore  remain  station- 
ary :  it  walks,  it  develops,  it  grows  up,  it  fortifies  itself, 
it  becomes  old  and  it  reaches  decrepitude." 


Premonitory.  1 1 

Language  must  move  with,  the  movements  of  mind, 
as  the  ocean  obeys  siderial  influences.  A  petrified  and 
mechanical  national  mind  will  certainly  appear  in  a 
petrified  and  mechanical  language.  But  the  provisions 
are  perfect.  The  renovation  of  language  is  provided 
for,  as  the  renovation  of  the  races  is  provided  for,  by 
a  subtle  chemistry.  The  sublime  democracy  of  speech ! 
When  a  tongue  has  become  dead  and  effete,  the  mind 
walks  out  of  it.  With  an  advance  in  the  national 
mind — with  the  influx  of  a  nobler  spirit,  comes  a  re- 
novation of  its  language  :  by  a  passionate  propulsive 
movement  it  ejects  its  old  dead  speech,  and  rises  to 
larger  and  freer  expression.  Like  the  waters  in  spring, 
the  rising  spirit  sweeps  away  the  frozen  surface  of  an 
.  effete  society,  literature,  language  and  thought. 

The  great  tidal  movements  in  a  nation's  life  are 
repeated  in  great  tidal  movements  in  its  language. 
With  new  creations,  thoughts  and  hopes^emerge  new 
demands  on  the  horizon  of  its  speech.  The  English 
language  shows  in  its  growth  crises  that  mark  real 
upsurgings  from  the  spontaneous  depths  of  human 
nature.  In  Chaucer  is  embalmed  that  rich  primitive 
sensuous  perception  of  English  life,  when  the  language 
became  so  opulent  in  expressions  of  sensible  objects 
and  simple  feelings.  The  flood-tide  in  the  national 
mind  that  came  with  the  Sixteenth  Century  finds 


12  Ramble  First. 

expression  in  the  Elizabethan  literature,  especially  in 
Shakespeare  in  whom  English  reached  its  truly  Ja- 
phetic mould.  And  the  vast  billowy  tendencies  of  mo- 
dern life,  too — the  new  political,  social,  scientific  births 
— are  making  new  demands  on  the  English  idiom.  It 
is  for  America  especially  to  evoke  new  realizations 
from  the  English  speech.  Always  waiting  in  a  lan- 
guage are  untold  possibilities.  On  the  lips  of  the  people, 
in  the  free  rich  unconscious  utterance  of  the  popular 
heart  are  the  grand  eternal  leadings  and  suggestions. 

Of  all  the  heritages  which  America  receives  the 
English  language  is  beyond  all  comparison  the  might- 
iest. Language  of  the  grand  stocks,  language  of 
reception,  of  hospitality,  it  is  above  all  fitted  to  be  the 
speech  for  America.  There  is  nothing  fortuitous  in 
language.  It  is  for  reasons  the  English  idiom  is  here. 
In  the  English,  more  than  all  others,  was  concentrated 
the  spirit  of  the  modern,  breaking  up  the  old  crystal- 
line classic  mould.  It  is  for  America  grandly  to  use 
this  grand  inheritance.  No  language  has,  no  language 
ever  had,  such  immense  assimilation  as  the  English. 
Freely  it  absorbs  whatever  is  of  use  to  it,  absorbs  and 
assimilates  it  to  its  own  fluid  and  flexible  substance. 
This  rich  copious  hospitable  flow  is  to  be  encouraged. 

In  the  growth  of  "Words  all  the  activities  of  the 


Premonitory.  13 

mind  conspire.  Language  is  the  mirror  of  the  living 
,,  inward  consciousness.  Language  is  concrete  meta- 
physics. What  rays  does  it  let  in  on  the  mind's 
subtle  workings!  There  is  more  of  what  there  is 
of  essential  in  metaphysics — more  of  the  structural 
action  of  the  human  mind,  in  Words,  than  in  the  con- 
certed introspection  of  all  the  psychologists.  "In 
language,"  observes  Frederick  Schlegelin  a  profoundly 
suggestive  passage,  "  all  the  principal  powers  have  a 
nearly  equal  part  and  share.  The  grammatical  structure 
is  furnished  by  the  reason.  From  the  fancy,  on  the 
other  hand,  is  derived  whatever  is  figurative  ;  and  how 
far  does  not  this  reach,  extending  into  the  primary  and 
natural  signification  of  words,  which  often  no  longer 
exists,  or  at  least  is  rarely  traceable  ?  And  so  also  that 
deep  spiritual  significance,  that  characteristic  meaning, 
which  in  the  original  stem-syllable  and  radical  words 
of  some  rich  old  language,  invariably  is  regarded  as  a 
beauty,  must  be  ascribed  to  the  understanding,  which 
so  profoundly  seizes  and  precisely  designates  whatever 
is  peculiar,  unless  perhaps  it  is  preferred-  to  assign  it 
to  an  immediate  feeling  which  wonderfully  harmonizes 
with  or  responds  to  it." 

In  our  studies  on  Words,  then,  a  simple  logic  is 
indicated  for  us  in  the  several  mental  activities  that 
work  in  the  mechanism  of  speech.  Through  the  por- 


14  Ramble  First. 

tals  of  the  Senses  enter  the  vivid  presentings  of  nature. 
On  these  the  constructive  Keason,  the  idealizing  Im- 
agination, the  ethical  Conscience  work.  Of  this 
working  words  are  the  records.  Hence  their  warranty. 
This  it  is  that  gives  them  their  authority  as  profound 
moral  teachers,  and  amber-like,  embalms  within  them 
great  and  noble  poetries,  histories  and  philosophies. 

It  may  not  be  amiss  to  throw  out  a  few  illustrations 
of  the  treasures  hoardedkin  Words.  Such  intimations 
may  serve  the  office  of  the  overture — that  is,  may 
strike  fundamental  chords. 

A  law  that  runs  through  the  warp  and  woof  of 
language  is  the  familiar  principle  of  a  translation  of 
sensible  perceptions  into  the  realm  of  ideas,  into  meta 
physics  and  morals. 

We  are  all  conscious  of  a  psychologic  state  when 
the  mind  is  balancing  between  conflicting  possibilities, 
when,  as  Dante  has  it, 

II  si  e  il  no  nel  capo  mi  tenzoni, 

when  "  Yes  and  No  contend  within  the  head."  N"ow 
how  faithfully  has  the  common  intuition  embodied  this 
condition  in  our  '  SUSPENSE,'  which  is  indeed  the 
being — suspensus —  hung  up,  balancing  in  deliberation. 
And  its  analogue  '  DELIBEEATIOX/  which  I  have  just 
used,  follows  a  like  figure — it  being  just  the  action  of 


Premonitory.  1 5 

that  mental  balance — libra — into  which  possibilities 
and  probabilities  are  thrown.  Our  word  'AUSPICIOUS  ' 
embalms  a  curious  reminiscence  of  the  good  omens  of 
the  auspex,  or  bird-inspector,  whom  the  old-world 
nations  were  wont  to  consult  as  oracles  ;  while  '  FISCAL  ' 
carries  a  reminder  of  ikefiscus  or  wicker  basket  which 
in  primitive  times  contained  the  revenue  of  the  state. 
So  '  FRUGAL  '  is  strictly  fruit-bearing,  '  CANDOR  '  is 
just  whiteness,  and  '  SERIOUS  '  (sine  risus)  is 
unable  to  raise  a  laugh. 

History,  too,  and  vivid  and  vi 
itself  in  Words.     The  coal  in  my 
with  ferns  that  flourished  untold 
equal  fidelity  national  customs,  historic 
mighty  social  revolutions  are  indelibly  stamped  on 
word-medals. 

What  a  curious  piece  of  -history  does  '  PECUNIARY  ' 
record!  The  Latin  pecunia,  wealth,  property,  gives  it 
to  us.  Unwrapping  it  still  farther  we  come  to  pecus, 
cattle,  herds  :  so  that,  flocks  and  herds  being  in  primi- 
tive and  pastoral  times  the  chief  wealth,  pecunia 
became  afterwards  the  expression  for  all  the  represen- 
tatives of  property.  What  a  strange  tale,  too,  does 
'SAUNTER'  tell!  The  Crusades  rise  at  the  spell. 
Saunt  and  Terre — the  holy  land — is  the  composition  of 
the  term  :  and  so,  literally,  a  going  to  the  Holy  Land. 


16  Ramble  First. 

But  as  this  originally  meritorious  performance  soon 
degenerated  in  many  cases  into  the  mere  pretence  for 
idling  and  mendicity,  the  claim  of  going  to  the  Saunl 
terre  came  to  be  regarded  as  a  mere  ruse,  and  '  SAUN- 
TER '  took  the  opprobrious  burden  it  now  bears  with 
it.  I  have  here  but  space  to  mention  the  word  'WIFE,' 
whose  etymologic  connection  with  weave,  web,  etc., 
records  an  interesting  piece  of  primitive  socialism. 

Nor  less  has  the  informing  fancy  interwoven  its 
fairy  imaginings  in  Words.  The  Grotesque  and  Ara- 
besque are  here,  too.  '  HOCUS-POCUS  '  for  instance,  is 
said  to  be  a  monkish  muddle  for  Hoc  est  corpus  Christi 
(the  formula,  This  is  the  body,  etc.).  A  'NOSTRUM' 
preserves  the  claim  of  the  Mediaeval  quacks  to  their 
specifics  as  being — nostrum — oursj  that  is  remedies 
unknown  to  all  the  rest  of  the  world :  and  to  be  in  a 
1  QUANDARY  '  is  just  to  be  in  a  pickle  where  you  may 
well  ask,  qu'en  dira-t-on — what  will  they  say  to  it  ? 

Marvelous  are  the  modes  in  which  the  word-forming 
faculties  have  labored  to  give  to  terms  burdens  of 
abuse.  The  very  anatomy  of  the  human  passions  is 
to  be  found  here.  I  may  instance  '  RASCAL  '  whose 
primary  signification  is,  in  the  words  of  Yerstegan,  * 
an  "  il  favoured  leane  and  woorthelesse  deer,"  and 

*  Restitution  of  Decayed  Intelligence. 


Premonitory.  17 

then,  by  a  "  stray ned  sence  "  applied  io  a  mean  vile 
fellow — the  worst  of  the  herd.x4  Genial  old  Eoger 
Ascham  has  a  pungent  illustration  of  •  the  primary 
meaning  of  rascal : 

"  A  father  that  doth  let  loose  his  son  to  all  experiences  is 
most  like  a  fond  hunter  [that  is,  a  foolish  hunter]  that  letteth  slip 
a  whelp  to  the  whole  herd ;  twenty  to  one  he  shall  fall  upon  a 
rascall  [that  is,  *  a  leane  woorthlesse  deer ']  and  let  go  the  fair 

game." 

The  Scholemaster. 

'FANATIC,'  too,  is  well  worth  exploring.  The 
Roman  fanaticus  was  simply  one  ardently  attached  to 
the  fana  or  temples.  But  as  these  devotees  carried 
their  superstitious  observances  to  outrageous  lengths, 
as  lacerating  themselves  with  knives,  and  so  forth,  the 
term  naturally  came  to  assume  the  opprobrious  mean- 
ing it  bears  with  us.  As  to  'VIXEN'  that  is  just  a 
fox-en — she  fox,  and  '  BLACKGUARD  '  shuts  up  a 
curious  piece  of  English  history,  of  which  more  anon. 

The  Morals  in  Words!  Language  is  man's  own 
judge.  Minos  and  Rhadamanthus  are  here.  Terrible 
the  tales  they  often  tell  of  human  frailty  and 
depravity;  grand  often  are  they  in  their  beautiful 
scorn  of  the  mean  and  ignoble.  How  fine  the  allusion 
conveyed  in  'WORSHIP,'  which  is  indeed  just  one's 


i8  Ramble  First. 

ivorih-ship  !  *  DECENT,'  too,  tells  us  how  becoming — 
decens — is  the  quality.  And  what  a  terrible  sentence 
is  heaped  on  all  pride,  on 

The  boast  of  heraldry,  the  pomp  of  power, 
And  all  that  beauty,  all  that  wealth  e'er  gave, 

in  the  fact  that  'VANITY7  (vanitas,  vanus,  empty)  is 
but  emptiness  1 

I  find,  however,  I  am  running  these  premonitory 
thoughts  into  the  very  pith  of  the  book,  so  here  I 
shall  abruptly  close.  But  I  read  the  other  day  in  the 
Cratylus  of  Plato  an  utterance  of  that  old  Socratic 
brain,  so  subtle,  so  genial ;  and  which  I  find  after  the 
lapse  of  these  twenty-odd  centuries  still  so  authentic 
and  intelligible  that  I  cannot  resist  transferring  it  to 
my  page, 

"O  Hermogenes,  son  of  Hipponicus,  there  is  an 
old  proverb,  that  beautiful  things  are  somehow  diffi- 
cult to  learn.  Now  the  learning  relating  to  names 
happens  to  be  no  small  affair.  I  would  not  myself, 
Cratylus,  confidently  assert  a  single  point  of  what  I 
have  said  above.  But  I  have  considered  with  Her- 
mogenes in  the  way  it  seemed  good  to  me,  so  that  on 
this  account,  at  least,  speak  boldly,  as  I  am  ready  to 


Premonitory.  ]  9 

receive  it,  if  you  have  anything  better  to  say  than 
this.  Nor  shall  I  wonder  if  you  have  something  to 
say  better ;  for  you  seem  to  me  to  have  considered 
things  of  this  kind  yourself,  and  to  have  learned  them 
from  others.  Should  you,  then,  say  anything  better, 
write  me  down  as  one  of  your  disciples  respecting  the 
meaning  of  Words.11 


RAMBLE  SECOND. 

THE  WORK  OF  THE  SENSES. 

"  Speech  is  the  perfect  expression  of  the  Senses.  "Words  are 
but  the  representations  of  the  disintegrated  body  of  Man." 

OKEN. 

I 

SYDNEY  SMITH  has  somewhere  an  amusing  passage 
illustrative  of  the  radical  sensualism  that  underlies 
our  most  supersensual  terms,  wherein  alluding  to  our 
aesthetic  application  of  such  expressions  as  'taste,' 
'tact'  (from  the  Latin  verb  to  touch),  'eye,'  etc.,  he 
observes  that  we  will  doubtless  soon  come  to  speak 
of  a  man  with  a  fine  'nose'  for  this  or  that  province 
of  physics  or  philosophy. 

Extravagance  aside,  the  Senses  have  certainly  left 
their  seal  and  superscription,  sharp,  unmistakable,  on 
the  words  of  our  language.  The  role  they  fill  in  the 
body  forthshadows  their  part  and  play  in  speech. 
Boots  of  man's  nature — outlets  and  inlets  of  the  world 


The  Work  of  the  Senses.  21 

— their  vivid,  strong-flavored  presentings  run  spine- 
like  through  language.  '  SENSIBLE  '  is  but  a  lively 
condition  of  the  senses  or  feelings,  '  APATHY  '  is  want 
of  feeling — *  GUSTO '  is  an  idealization  of  rich  juicy 
taste — '  TACT  '  is  delicacy  of  touch,  the-  *  TANGIBLE  '  is 
what  can  be  touched — 'RANK'  and  'NASTY'  have  both 
a  far-off  genesis  in  terms  implying  the  nose — and 
'ACUTENESS'  is  properly  just  sharpness  of  hearing. 
How  copiously,  too,  has  the  Eye  contributed !  '  CIR- 
CUMSPECTION,' for  instance,  is  a  careful  looking  (specio) 
around  on  all  sides  (circum),  hence  mental  wariness— 
'  PERSPICUOUS  '  is  what  is  readily  to  be  seen  through — 
and  '  ENVY  '  finely  seizes  that  askance  look  which  is 
the  natural  manifestation  of  this  passion. 

Everywhere  man  finds  himself.  Himself,  himself ! 
He  darts  responsive  rays  to  nature.  Civilization  is 
but  the  crystallization  into  fact  of  the  human  faculties 
and  functions.  The  practical  arts  are  but  an  expanded 
Hand:  telescope  and  microscope  are  realizations  of 
the  structure  of  the  Eye :  he  adds  boots  of  swiftness 
to  his  feet  in  railroads  and  steam  navigation  :  and  his 
nervous  system  is  repeated,  after  sublime  proportions, 
in  the  electric  threads  with  which  he  is  now  reticu- 
lating the  planet. 

All  words  are  primarily  sympathetic.  Words 
are  born  of  a  passionate  yearning.  And  it  is  through 


22  Ramble  Second. 

the  Senses  that  the  mind  goes  out  to  nature :  these  the 
filaments  and  outreachings — these  the  subtle  threads 
that  link  phenomena  and  the  mind.  I  find  an  impres- 
sive testimony  to  this  primary  law  of  language  in  the 
word  *  THOUGHT.'  Evidently  enough  it  is  an  abstraction 
from  the  verb  to  think  (Saxon,  thencan,  past  part, 
thoht),  which  Home  Tooke  *  deduces  from  tiling — I 
am  thing-ed,  Me  thinketh,  that  is  Me  thingeth — pre- 
cisely analogous  to  the  Latin  '  REOR  '  from  res — 
derivations  that  may  intimate  the  extent  to  which 
things  color  thoughts. 

It  is  an  interesting  illustration  of  how  intellectual 
conceptions  are  but  a  translation  of  sensible  perceptions 
that  the  word  '  WITS  '  was  formerly  used  as  synonymous 
with  '  SENSES,'  a  meaning  which  we  can  appreciate 
from  the  phrase,  to  be  '  OUT  OF  OXE'S  WITS,  '  that  is, 
to  be  out  of  one's  senses.  It  also  intimates  a  curious 
piece  of  metaphysics  :  as  though  the  sole  '  source  '  of 
wit  and  wisdom  were  through  the  avenues  of  the  senses. 
In  Chaucer  I  find  the  following  instance  of  its 
employment : 

"  Thou  hast  don  sinne  again  oure  Lord  Crist,  for  certes  the 
three  enemies  of  mankind,  that  is  to  sayn,  the  flesh,  the  fend, 
and  the  world,  thou  hast  suffred  hem  entre  into  thin  herte  wil- 

*  Diversions  of  Parley,  p.  608. 


The  Work  of  the  Senses.  23 

fully  by  the  windowes  of  thy  body,  and  hast  not  defended 
thyself  suffisantly  agein  hir  assautes  and  hir  temptations,  so 
that  they  han  wounded  thy  soule  in  five  places,  this  is  to  sayn, 
the  dedly  sinnes  that  ben  entred  into  thyn  herte  by  thy  five 
wittes"  etc. 

Tale  of  Melibeus* 

And  how  terribly  does  this  passage  find  realization 
in  our  '  SENSUAL,'  that  is,  a  devotion  of  all  the  powers 
to  the  service  of  the  senses — a  devotion,  which  Goethe 
has  embodied  with  such  terrific  power  in  the  creation 
of  Mephistophiles. 

On  the  other  hand,  what  a  noble  redemption  is  found 
in  the  word  *  SENSE,'  which  simply  means  feeling,  as 
though  only  a  man  of  feeling  were  a  man  of  '  sense/ 
And  certes  between  the  man  of  noble  heart  and  he  of 
great  good  sense,  there  is  a  close  enough  connection.  To 
what  lofty  statement  of  this  thought  did  Swedenborg 
rise  in  his  august  and  oracular  utterance  that  "  the 
quality  of  one's  life  is  the  quality  of  his  love  !"  And 
perhaps  there  is  a  profounder  veracity  than  we  might  be 
apt  to  suppose  in  the  old  maxim :  Quantum  sumus 
scimus.  At  least  it  might  do  us  no  harm  to  have  a 
little  more  faith  in  heart-tellings  and  a  little  less  in  the 
mere  dictates  of  mortality. 

*  Tyrwhitt's  Chaucer,  vol.  ii.  p.  284. 


24  Ramble  Second. 

"  We  live  in  deeds,  not  years ;  in  thoughts,  not  breaths  ; 
In  feelings,  not  in  figures  on  a  dial. 
We  should  count  time  by  heart-throbs." 

So  saith  Festus.  And  so  did  the  Boy  through  child- 
hood's long,  various,  agonizing  years,  away  far  up  in 
the  "green,  airy  Pentlands,"  lulled  by  the  mellow  music 
of  thy  dashing  waters,  thou  loveliest  waterfa'  of  Hab- 
bies  How.  Then  he  measured  time,  not  by  the  rigid 
exactitude  of  days  and  weeks  and  months  and  years ; 
but  years  by  the  springing  of  the  primroses  on  the 
sun-kissed  braes ;  and  months  and  weeks  and  days,  by 
the  exuberance  of  his  emotions, — and  that  was 
boundless. 

The  gustatory  propensities  of  mankind  have  left 
significant  seals  on  Words.  Thus,  we  express  one  of 
our  strongest  mental  repugnances  by  (  DISGUST,'  that 
is  just  '  DISTASTE  ' ;  while  everything  that  is  unsyste- 
matic and  chaotic  in  intellect  finds  expression  in 
'  CRUDITY  '  which  is  simply  the  being — crudus — 
uncooked.  'PALATE,'  also,  we  employ  in  the  same 
sense  as  taste:  thus,  "men  of  nice  palates  could  not 
relish  Aristotle  as  dressed  up  by  the  schoolmen."  How 
utterly  sensuous  !  Shakespeare,  however,  follows  in 
the  same  direction : 

"  Devotion,  patience,  courage,  fortitude, 
I  have  no  relish  of  them." 


The  Work  of  the  Senses.  25 

Now,  of  the  force  of  *  RELISH,'  we  all  have  a  keen 
enough  appreciation ;  but  our  unexpressed,  passive 
understanding  of  it  is  brought  out  in  alto  relievo  by 
Minsheu's  etymology  thereof,  from  relecher — that 
which  is  so  pleasing  to  the  palate  as  to  tempt  one  to 
lick  his  lips  ! 

'CAUSTIC,'  'MORDANT'  and  'PIQUANT'  have  also 
a  like  reference  to  the  sense  of  taste,  and  sufficiently 
explain  themselves,  in  their  burning,  biting  and  stinging 
allusions.  '  SAUCY  '  is  just  salsus,  salted :  '  saucy  '  talk 
is  therefore  talk  too  highly  peppered  with  salt — in  gen- 
eral, too  '  spicy.'  And  '  RACY  '  always  reminds  us  of 
the  root  whence  it  springs.  Thus  Cowley's 

"  Rich,  racy  verses  in  which  we 
The  soil  from  which  they  come,  taste,  smell  and  see." 

1  SAVORY  '  and  '  INSIPID  '  are  both  from  one  root — 
sapw,  to  taste :  the  one  signifying  '  tasty '  and  the 
other  '  tasteless ;'  while  the  highest  intellectual  endow- 
ments can  result  in  nothing  more  exalted  than  a  man 
of  '  SAPIENCE,'  which  is  also  just  a  man  of  taste.  So, 
too,  our  Parisians  have  sublimated  their  conceptions 
of  all  that  is  highest  in  modes  or  morals  into  their  '  BON 
GOUT.'  But  this  is  not  much  to  be  wondered  at,  since 
they  are  constitutionally  rather  Epicurean  in  their 

2 


26  Ramble  Second. 

philosophy  ;  and  it  is  so  natural,  with  the  smack  of  Clos- 
Yougeot  or  Chateau-Lafitte  on  the  lips,  to  transfer 
the  figure,  not  without  gusto,  to  one's  aesthetic  judg- 
ments. However,  so  be  it :  since  De  gustibus  non  est 
disputandum. 

Now  besides  all  this,  we  are  acquainted  with  at  least 
one  northern  European  nation  (not  to  mention  the 
Chinese),  who  hold  that  the  soul  lies  in  the  abdomen, 
and  in  whose  language  those  two  distinctly  divergent 
facts — soul  and  stomach,  find  expression  in  one  and 
the  same  term.  Moreover  the  Greek  for  mind — 
PHKEN — is  (what  is  remarkable  for  so  introspective  a 
race)  that  which  also  expresses  midriff  or  diaphragm  ! 

"What  a  lesson  do  these  words  read  us  on  the  gas- 
tronomic proclivities  of  our  race !  Should  we  not  join 
in  the  pious  ejaculation  of  Dan  Chaucer  ? 

"  Adam,  our  father,  and  his  wif  also, 
Fro  Paradis  to  labour  and  to  wo, 
Were  driven  for  that  vice,  it  is  no  drede. 
For  while  that  Adam  fasted,  as  I  rede, 
He  was  in  Paradis,  and  whan  that  he 
Ete  of  the  fruit  defended  on  a  tree, 
Anon  he  was  outcast  to  wo  and  peine. 
0  glotonie,  on  thee  wel  ought  us  plainef" 

The  Pardoneres  Tak* 

*  Tyrwhitt's  Chaucer,  vol.  ii.  p.  182. 


The  Work  of  the  Senses.  27 

The  contributions  from  the  sense  of  Sight  are 
numerous  and  interesting.  Nor  will  they,  if  ques- 
tioned, yield  less  significant  replies  than  such  as  have 
just  engaged  our  attention.  '  FANCY,'  *  PHANTASY  ' 
(fantasy),  'FANTASTICAL,'  'PHANTOM,'  'PHANTASM,' 
'  PHASE  '  and  '  PHENOMENA  '  are  all  drawn  from  the 
Greek  verb  to  see  to  seem,  to  appear — phaino :  '  FANCY  ' 
and  '  PHANTASY  '  being  the  image-forming  faculty ; 
'  PHANTOM  '  and  '  PHANTASM  '  mere  images,  spectres 
(specio,  to  see) ;  '  PHASE  '  an  aspect,  and  'PHENOMENA  ' 
being  but  the  apparent,  the  seeming,  in  opposition  to 
the  absolute,  the  real  (realis,  having  relation  to  things — 
res).  '  THEORY  '  and  '  SPECULATION  '  have  an  analo- 
gous origin,  both  of  them  implying  a  contemplating 
abstractly,  without  reference  to  the  practical.  Shakes- 
peare furnishes  an  instance  of  the  use  of  '  SPECULA- 
TION '  in  its  primary  sense  of  sight : 

"  Thou  hast  no  speculation  in  those  eyes  ;" 

and  '  SPECULATION  '  in  its  commercial  application  has 
reference  to  the  keen  look-out  that  is  required  to  take 
advantage  of  ups  and  downs  of  the  market.  '  VISION- 
ARY' should  be  mentioned  in  the  same  connection, 
implying  as  it  does  the  being  given  to  indulging  in 
mere  vague  visions.  And  '  PROVIDENCE  '  is  precisely 
fore-sight :  while,  applied  to  deity,  it  is  indicative  of 


28  Ramble  Second. 

Him  whose  luminous  glance  penetrates  the  farthest 
abysses  of  the  coming  time,  and  in  whose  divine 
scheme  all  is  provided  for. 

'INTUITION"'  finely  expresses  that  mental  insight, 
that  '  MIND'S  EYE  '  that  reads  omens  where  it  goes  and 
lights  up  nature  with  luminous  provocations.  '  IDEA,' 
too,  is  just  an  image  or  picture  formed  in  the  mind 
through  perceptions  of  sight.  But  that  was  a  splen- 
did translation  which  the  term  received  in  the  hands 
of  Plato  when  he  raised  IDEAI  to  mean  the  archetypes 
or  patterns  existing  in  the  Divine  mind,  and  of  which 
all  material  forms  and  embodiments  are  but  projections. 

I  have  already  referred  to  the  word '  ENVY  '  as  finely 
picturing  that  side-long  covetous  glance  that 
this  passion  inspires.  '  INVIDIOUS  '  is  precisely  the 
same,  with  a  Latin  origin.  Nor  less  pictorial  is  '  RE- 
SPECT,'  which  its  analogue  'REGARD  '  will  well  inter- 
pret for  us.  For  our  *  REGARD  '  primarily  implies  a 
looking  at,  an  observing  :  so,  '  RESPECT  '  is  properly 
just — respectus — a  looking  lack.  The  metamorphosis 
they  undergo  is  curious.  For  a  '  respectable '  person 
is  just  one  so  worthy  of  '  regard '  as  to  cause  us  to 
look  back  again  at  him  !  l  EESPECTABLE  '  has,  however, 
been  sadly  degenerating  these  late  years,  being  now 
chiefly  employed  to  designate  decayed  gentility  or 
mental  mediocrity. 


The  Work  of  the  Senses.  29 

'  SEER,  '  again,  is  simply  one  who  sees — a  see-ei — 
whose  Eye  has  been  unsealed  to  the  "  open  secret"  of 
the  universe,  in  Fichte's  grand  thought — a  secret 
hidden  from  the  wise  and  prudent  (in  their  own 
imaginings),  and  yet  l  revealed ' — revelo — unveiled  to 
those  exercising  the  faith  and  the  humility  of  babes. 
Nor  does  there  exist  the  problem  for  which  benign 
Nature  will  not  give  the  response,  will  we  but  wisely 
and  trustingly  interrogate  her.  For  we  know  that  she 

"  Never  did  betray 
The  heart  that  loved  her." 

"  The  answer  lies  around,  written  in  all  colors  and  motions, 
uttered  in  all  tones  of  jubilee  and  wail,  in  thousand-figured, 
thousand-voiced,  harmonious  nature ;  but  where  is  the  cunning 
eye  to  whom  that  God-written  apocalypse  will  yield  articulate 
meaning  ?  We  sit  as  in  a  boundless  phantasmagoria  and  dream- 
grotto  ;  boundless,  for  the  faintest  star,  the  remotest  century,  lies 
not  even  nearer  the  verge  thereof;  sounds  and  varied-colored 
visions  flit  around  our  sense ;  but  Him,  the  unslumbering,  whose 
work  both  dream  and  dreamer  are,  we  see  not — except  in  rare, 
half- waking  moments,  suspect  not." 

Sartor  Resartus. 

Sight  is  the  most  spiritual  of  the  senses.  Through 
Sight  the  structure  of  the  world  is  revealed.  Through 
it  the  perception  of  identity,  growths,  processes,  vistas. 
Hence  the  breadth  of  the  significance  of  this  sense  in 


30  Ramble  Second. 

the  nomenclature  of  Science.  If  Sight  carries  with  it 
the  architecture  of  the  world,  Sound  brings  the  uni- 
versal solvent  which  whirls  matter  back  to  primal 
cether.  In  melody  Nature  whispers  to  man  the  secret 
confessions  of  her  plan.  Oken  asserts  that  melody 
is  the  voice  of  the  universe  whereby  it  proclaims  its 
scheme  or  its  innermost  essence.  They  at  least  know 
this  who  have  felt  the  mystical  o'ermastering  of 
Music.  Music  is  a  passionate  yearning  after  more 
primeval  natures. 

The  contributions  of  the  Senses  to  "Words  are  by 
no  means  exhausted.  But  the  principle  does  not  lead 
far.  It  is  when  the  creative  Keason,  the  idealizing 
Imagination  begin  their  work,  loading  words  with 
new  burdens  of  meaning,  that  the  master- workings  of 
the  mind  in  speech  appear.  And  for  a  theory  of 
speech  somewhat  progressive  is  required. 


RAMBLE  THIRD. 

THE   IDEALISM  OF  WORDS. 

"  Rendering  apparent  the  images  of  unapparent  natures 
And  inscribing  the  unapparent  in  the  apparent  frame  of  the 
world."  ZOROASTER. 

MAN  is  an  idealist.  Of  this  idealism  Language  is  a 
primitive  expression.  For  Nature,  too,  is  emblematic. 
There  is  that  subtle  consanguinity  between  Nature 
and  the  Soul  that  the  laws  of  man's  mentality  have 
the  power  to  unlock  the  phenomena  of  the  world. 
There  is  a  saying  reported  of  Zoroaster,  and  coming 
from  the  deeps  of  forty  centuries,  that  "  the  congrui- 
ties  of  material  forms  to  the  laws  of  the  soul  are  divine 
allurements,"  and  that  was  a  sublime  audacity  of 
Paracelsus  that  "those  who  would  understand  the 
course  of  the  heavens  above  must  first  of  all  recognize 
the  heaven  in  man." 

With    passionate    profusion    Nature    pours    her 


32  Ramble  Third. 

splendid  solicitations  on  man.  Flood  and  firmament, 
light  and  night,  bird  and  flower,  woo  him  with  their 
sweet  eternal  persuasions : 

"A  rainbow,  a  sunbeam, 
A  subtle  smell  that  spring  unbinds, 
Dead  pause  abrupt  of  midnight  winds, 
An  echo  or  a  dream," — 

all  speak  to  the  listening  soul  a  strange  yet  unmis- 
takable language  ;  and  to  me,  even 

"  The  meanest  flower  that  blows  can  give 
Thoughts  that  do  often  lie  too  deep  for  tears." 

This  idealism  of  language  rests  on  no  whim,  but  is 
a  primary  and  necessary  fact.  Up  from  the  core  of 
nature  comes  this  wondrous  symbolism.  Words  are 
emblematic  because  things  are  emblematic.  And  as 
Nature  stands  the  splendid  fable  of  spirit,  so  the 
informing  Imagination  converts  the  language  of  out- 
ward phenomena  into  types  of  the  mind.  (  There  is  no 
term  applied  to  a  metaphysical  or  moral  fact  but 
which,  when  opened  up,  is  found  to  be  the  translation 
of  some  fact  in  nature.)  'FERVOR'  simply  means 
heat;  'TRACTABLE,'  that  may  be  drawn  along; 
'ABUNDANCE  '  images  an  overflowing  cup  and  '  TRANS- 
GRESSION '  is  the  crossing  of  the  line  that  divides  right 


The  Idealism  of 

from  wrong.  In  like  manner,  when" 
one's  taking  '  UMBRAGE  '  we  simply  idealize  a  shadow, 
umbra — the  dark  shade  that  passes  over  one's  mind. 
*  SUPERCILIOUS  '  is  a  picturesque  translation  of  the 
act  of  raising  the  eyebrows  or  supercilium — the  natural 
expression  of  hauteur.  And  a  '  SCRUPLE  '  (of  con- 
science) is  a  vivid  rendering  of  the  scrupulus  or  little 
bits  of  gravel  that  used  to  get  into  the  very  open 
shoes  of  the  Eomans,  and  produce  trouble  and 
hesitancy. 

This  allegory  runs  through  the  warp  and  woof  of 
language.  It  is  a  primary  act  of  the  word-forming 
faculties,  which  take  up  a  natural  symbol  and  enshrine* 
for  ever  within  it  a  thought.  Let  us  trace  some  of 
the  workings  of  this  wondrous  law. 

"What  an  image  of  fractious  human  passions  must 
have  filled  the  mind  of  that  poet  who  first  spoke  about 
'REFRAINING'  therefrom — that  is  reining  (froenum) 
them  in,  curbing  them  with  bit  and  bridle  1  How  faith- 
fully, too,  is  the  subtracting  one  part  from  a  fault  and 
subduing  another,  thus  as  it  were  thinning  it  out,  ex- 
pressed in  our  *  EXTENUATE  '  (tennis,  thin) :  and  how 
deep  was  his  knowledge  of  human  nature  who  first 
characterized  that  peering  into  another's  faults  and 
failings  as  '  SUSPICION.'  Could  aught  be  more  de- 
scriptive, and  at  the  same  time  convey  a  better  moral, 


34  Ramble  Third. 

than  does- {  SCANDAL,'  especially  when  viewed  in  con- 
nection with  the  Greek  scandalon,  a  stumbling-block, 
or  indeed,  primarily,  a  trap-spring,  a  snare  ?  or 
1  PRECOCIOUS  '  whose  composition  implies  cooked 
before  the  time,  as  'PREMATURE'  means  ripe  before 
the  tinle  ?  or  '  OBVIOUS  '  which  is  simply  so  apparent 
as  to  meet  us — ob  vias — in  our  very  way,  or  '  INSINU- 
ATE,'  which  is  just  to  steal — in  sinus — into  the  breast? 
We  all  know  the  value  of  '  CANDOR,'  but  may  it  not 
heighten  our  admiration  of  the  quality  when  we  reflect 
that  a  '  candid '  man  is  one  whose  walk  and  conver- 
sation are — candidus — of  a  shining  v:ldte:  in  whose 
communication  is  none  of  the  darkness  of  deceit,  but 
all  is  fair  and  lucid  ?  (  DEXTERITY,'  again,  is  sufficiently 
palpable  in  all  its  significations,  and  yet  do  we  always 
catch  the  allusion  which  plays  in  the  word  to  the  dextra 
manus — the  right  hand :  that  is  to  say,  a  '  dextrous  ' 
person  is  one  whose  '  faculties '  (that  is,  facilities — the 
doing,  the  executive  part  of  him)  are  as  perfectly  apt 
and  under  control  as  is  the  right  hand  of  the  crafty 
workman.  '  SINISTER/  on  the  other  hand,  has  relation 
not  to  the  right  or  good-omened  side,  but  to  the  left 
(sinistra)  side  of  the  auspex,  where  ill-omened  birds 
appeared;  and  so,  inauspicious,  baleful,  adverse. 
Again,  how  faithfully  is  '  PRECIPITANCY  '  symbolized 
by  that  heady  haste,  which  so  often  causes  both  per- 


The  Idealism  of  Words.  35 

sons  and  projects  to  tumble  headforemost — precipitatus ! 
Just  as  vivid,  however,  is  '  SEDATE  '  which  implies  no 
more  of  internal  repose  than  can  be  expressed  by  a  set 
or  settled  demeanor — quite  closely  allied,  indeed,  to 
'  DEMURE  '  which,  by  the  way,  is  a  French  quality, 
claiming  descent  from  demeurer  to  stay,  and  so  some 
peculiar  *  STAIDNESS'  (that  is,  stay-ed-ness)  of  disposition : 
although  it  is  by  no  means  as  cynical  as  '  MOROSE  '  for 
the  root  of  which  we  need  perchance  go  no  deeper 
than  the  Latin  moror,  to  stay,  to  loiter. 

What  chambers  of  imagery  do  Words  present ! 
Could  aught  more  picturesquely  portray  that  utter 
indolence  and  abandon  we  express  in  '  SUPINE  '  than 
the  lying  on  the  lack,  with  the  face  upwards — supinus  ? 
or,  what  could  more  pungently  picture  all  the  burden 
of  significance  that  dwells  in  '  SUPPLIANCE  '  than  a 
bending  of  the  knee  (supplex  :  and  so  literally  a  knee- 
ling). 'TRACTABLE'  is  that  may  be  led  along. 
A  'FRACTIOUS'  man  is  most  evidently  one  who 
breaks  loose  from  all  restraint,  who  breaks  into  fits  of 
passion,  etc.  An  instance  of  an  exceedingly  appro- 
priate employment  of  this  word  occurs  in  Struan 
Eobertson's  translation  of  Horace's  famous  description 
of  Achilles — 

"Impiger,  iracundus,  inexorabiiis,  acer  " — 


36  Ramble  Third. 

•which,  he  renders  into  this  very  pithy  and  pungent 
vernacular : 

"A  fiery  Etter-cap,  a. fractious  chiel, 
As  het  as  ginger,  and  as  stieve  as  steel !'' 

Words,  too,  often  make  their  users  instinctive  physi- 
ognomists. We  have  seen  the  allusion  (  SUPERCILIOUS  ' 
carries  with  it  to  the  raising  of  the  eyebrows.  To  the 
forehead,  also,  words  point  as  a  most  expressive  fea- 
ture.' Else  why  do  we  have  such  strong  terms  as 
'  BROW  BEAT,'  or  '  FROWN  '  which  seems  to  be  con- 
tracted from  the  old  French  verb  frogner — to  knit  the 
brows  ?  Here  the  most  powerful  mental  struggles  are 
mirrored,  and  I  recollect  Lessing  remarks  that  the  rea- 
son why  the  sculptors  of  the  Laocooa  did  not  surround 
the  head  with  the  fillets  worn  by  the  priests  was  to  be 
enabled  thus  to  develop  that  tremendous  expression 
of  agony  they  have  imprinted  on  the  immortal  marble. 

And  more  expressive  symbols.  c  WILD  '  is  willed, 
wiWd  (or  self-willed),  in  opposition  to  those,  whether 
men  or  beasts,  who  are  tamed  or  subdued,  by  reason 
or  otherwise  to  the  will  of  others  or  of  societies  * ; 
'  SURD  '  in  Algebra  means  a  quantity  deaf  (surdus)  to 
all  attempts  at  reduction  to  a  rational  form ;  to  '  RE- 
FLECT '  images  a  'back-casting  of  the  thoughts ;  to 

*  Home  Tooke  :  Diversions  of  Purley. 


The  Idealism  of  Words.  37 

*  PONDER  '  is  literally  to  weigh,  '  RUIN  '  finely  images 
mighty  downfall,  'punctilious' is  the  observance  of 
every  minute  point — punctillum  ;  and  '  IMBECILE  '  is 
a  forcibje  metaphor  drawn  from  the  old  man  unable 
to  hobble  along  without  the  aid  of  his  bacittum  or 
staff! 

The  law  on  which  this  idealism  of  Words  rests  has 
its  roots  deep  in  man's  mental  structure.  For  as 
material  forms  are  the  revelation  of  spiritual  natures, 
so  the  vivid  imagination  is  constantly  bringing  provoca- 
tions to  ampler  translations  of  our  everyday  perceptions 
and  experiences.  From  insight  from  a  large  perception 
of  Analogy,  from  a  longing  and  passionate  heart  comes 
the  power  of  thus  translating  the  presentingsof  nature 
into  the  expressive  symbols  of  moral  and  metaphysical 
existences.  To  a  sincere  and  tender  nature  words  lend 
themselves  plastic  and  willing  to  the  formative  laws 
of  the  word-forming  faculties.  Illustrations  of  the  work- 
ing of  these  laws  run  through  our  and  every  language. 
"When  we  speak  of  a  '  cordial '  man  or  manner,  is  it 
not  plain  that  we  are  simply  ascribing  to  the  man  or 
manner  the  quality  of  being  hearty  (cor,  cordis,  the 
heart)  ?  *  EGREGIOUS  '  too  is  lifted  out  of  its  special, 
definite  meaning  of  the  animal  chosen — e  grege — out 
of  the  flock,  and  idealized  in  a  vigorous  image  to  repre- 


38  Ramble  Third. 

sent  any  property  so  remarkable  as  to  remove  it  from 
the  ordinary  rule  and  mark  it  as  unique  and  unap- 
proachable. The  Latin  term  pra-varicator,  which 
originally  implied  a  straddler  with  distorted  legs  has 
given  us  our  verb  to  '  PREVARICATE,'  which  we  readily 
perceive  has  been  abstracted  to  imply  a  mental  or 
moral  shuffling.  In  like  manner  when  Prince  Hal 
addresses  Falstaff  in  the  words  "  IIow  now,  my  sweet 
creature  of  bombast,"  he  is  using  the  noun  '  BOMBAST  ' 
in  its  literal  sense  of  soft  padding  used  to  swell  gar- 
ments :  this  primary  acceptation,  however,  the  word 
has  now  entirely  lost,  and  we  have  transferred  it  to 
idealize  a  swelling,  inflated  style  of  talking,  fustian — 
vox  et  preterea  nihil.  I  see  I  have  used  the  word 
'  FUSTIAX  '  in  illustration  of  '  bombast ' :  it  is  curious 
that  this  term  has  undergone  precisely  the  same  curious 
metamorphosis. 

These  changes  in  the  meaning  of  Words — this  ebb 
and  flow  of  significance — is  constantly  going  on  in  a  live 
language :  and  it  is  no  extravagance  to  say  that  the 
moral  and  mental  vitality  of  a  people  may  be  gauged 
in  the  quantity  and  quality  of  these  transformations. 
For  over  these  transformations  the  genius  o'f  the 
nation  unconsciously  presides,  and  the  issues  of 
Words  represent  issues  in  the  national  life  and 
thought.  This  metaphor  and  metamorphosis  of 


The  Idealism  of  Words.  39 

Words  is  exceedingly  curious.  There  is  probably 
nothing  in  which  psychologic  laws  and  the  organic 
workings  of  the  human  mind  more  vividly  asd  vitally 
reveal  themselves  than  here..  For  though,  to  the  su- 
perficial eye,  seemingly  lawless  and  capricious,  Words 
yet  bristle  with  rational  thought,  while  even  the  most 
startling  metaphor  and  the  wildest  poetic  image  has  a 
law  and  logic  of  its  own. 

Of  course  in  pursuing  these  Niles  and  JSTigers  to 
their  source  we  find  many  curious  turnings  and  wind- 
ings, and  many  strange  regions  do  they  flow  through. 
The  cozenage  of  Words  brings  out  many  queer 
developments.  '  DEBAUCH  '  is  an  instance.  It  tells  us 
that  it  was  at  first  merely  the  attempt  to  draw  a  work- 
man de  (son)  bauche— /ro?^  his  shop,  and  so,  to  *  de- 
bauch '  him.  '  DELIEIUM  '  is  another.  It  certainly  is 
so  if  we  derive  it  from  de  lira,  that  is,  to  make  baulks 
in  ploughing,  and  so,  a  mental  wandering,  or  raving. 
And  '  ENTHUSIASM  '  is  enthousiasmos — possessed  by  a 
God,  or  the  feeling  that  arises  from  the  idea  that  one 
is  possessed  by  a  God.  Spinosa,  then,  to  whom  Novalis, 
on  account  of  his  fervency  in  asserting  the  divinity  of 
universal  Nature  (hence  our  'PANTHEISM,'  that  the 
whole — pan — is  God)  gave  the  appellation  of  the  "  God- 
intoxicated  man,"  perhaps  presents  us  with  a  striking 
illustration  of  the  primary  meaning  of  the  'Enthusiast.' 


40  Kamble  Third. 

It  is  interesting,  too,  to  interrogate  words  with  a  view 
to  detect  those  still  more  marked  transformations  that 
frequently  take  place — how  the  degrees  of  praise  and 
blame  vary — how  they  receive  burdens  of  meaning  that 
properly  belong  not  to  them — how  again  they  have 
been  shorn  of  their  fair  proportions  of  significance,  and 
often  how  secondary  meanings  have  overlapped  the 
primary  ones. 

Nature's  works  are,  we  know  oft  times  so  over- 
powering in  their  effects  as  to  strike  one  dumb  with 
amazement — what  we  call  '  STUPENDOUS,'  that  is,  so 
impressive  as  to  put  one  into  a  stupor  with  awe.  This 
expression,  however,  we  must  consider  as  even  more 
than  metaphorical — our  nil-admirari  philosophy  re- 
cognizes no  such  impressions :  'tis  an  l  Exaggeration  ' 
(Exaggero — a  heaping  up  of  meaning).  And  yet  it  is 
no  more  outre  *  than  a  thousand  other  extravaganzas 
we  are  constantly  uttering.  Thus  the  slightest  possible 
disturbance  we  stigmatize  as  a  'PEST!'  or  'PLAGUE!' 
without  any  thought  of  the  burden  of  meaning 
which  the  words  primarily  bear.  And  yet  we  hardly 
'  STIGMATIZE  '  it  either,  for  that  would  be  to  brand  it  like 
a  slave — stigma  (tfTi'/^a)  being  originally  the  mark  of  Dis- 
grace burned  into  the  brow  of  a  runaway.  But  indeed, 

*  French  for  the  Latin  l  ULTRA,'  beyond. 


The  Idealism  of  Words.  4  i 

we  are  constantly  using  these  heightened  metaphors  — 
saying  more  than  we  mean.  And  this  Extravagance 
not  only  vibrates  throughout  the  general  form  of 
phrases  and  expressions,  but  discovers  itself  even  in 
individual  words  :  so  that  his  very  language  furnishes 
evidence  that  man  is  a  creature  given  to  exaggeration. 
For  we  cannot  even  name  a  '  NUISANCE  '  (French 
nuisance  *  from  nuire,  to  harm)  without  averring  that  it 
is  a  positive  injury  ;  and  the  slightest  '  ANNOYANCE  ' 
(also  through  the  Norman  nuire)  we  persist  in  convert- 
ing into  a  real  hurt.  Again,  what  was  to  the  Koman 
SL  fighting  against  —  repugnantia  —  has  been  by  us  soft- 
ened down  to  a  mere  '  REPUGNANCE  ;'  a  death-struggle  — 
reluctor  —  has  sunk  into  the  tame  *  KELUCTANCE,'  and 
what  was  once  actually  deadly  —  perniciosus  —  has  been 
metamorphosed  into  the  simple  'PERNICIOUS.'  Our 
peaceful  '  DEBATE  '  (de  and  battre,  to  beat  down)  was 
to  the  Norman  —  who  was  more  skilful  in  the  use  of 
his  sword  th  an  of  the  weaponsdrawn  from  the  armory 
of  wit  —  a  downright  battle  ;  while  the  mild  'LYCEUM7 
was  the  Greek's  —  Xuxsiov  —  wolfs  den  !  Surely  we  give 


*  Happily  the  letters  of  this  word  still  continue  their  allegiance, 
for  which  we  have  not  to  thank  Webster  —  who,  following  the 
precedent  of  Blackstone,  recommends  that  it  be  spelled  nusance, 
though  on  what  principle,  except  that  of  "  darkening  wisdom," 
it  might  be  difficult  enough  to  determine. 


42  Ramble  Third. 

many  a  command  that  is  not  at  all  deadly  either  in  its 
nature  or  consequences,  and  yet  we  will  call  such  '  PER- 
EMPTORY.' AYe  may  easily  be'astonished,' without  being 
struck  with  tonnere,  thunder— or  as  we  say,  tfiunderstrucL 
And  it  is  certainly  quite  possible  for  one  to  be  very 
much  '  MORTIFIED  '  (mors,  mortis — death)  without  its 
proving  the  death  of  him  ! 

But,  while  our  language  furnishes  us  with  instances 
in  which  conventional  usage  has  conspired  to  soften 
down  the  too  expressive  primitive  power  of  words,  we 
on  the  other  hand  meet  with  numerous  cases  in  which 
terms  acquire  burdens  of  significance  which  primitively 
and  properly  belong  not  to  them.  The  sons  become 
stronger  and  wiser  and  wittier  than  their  sires.  This 
we  will  have  occasion  to  see  copiously  illustrated 
hereafter :  in  the  mean  time  take  a  few  terms  wherein 
we  may  mark -the  steps  of  a  progressive  civilization. 
1  TOILET,'  for  example,  cannot,  with  all  its  arts,  con- 
ceal from  us  the  fig-leaved  condition  that  lurks  in  and 
peeps  out  from  it ;  we  discern  shreds  of  the  toile — the 
mere  piece  of  cloth — which  the  savage  was  wont  to 
wrap  around  his  loins  to  cover  him  withal  and  lo ! 
his  '  toilet'  was  made !  And  so  the  jeweled  *  DIADEM  ' 
owes  its  origin  to  the  simple  woolen  fillet — diadem  a — 
which  the  king,  in  patriarchal  days,  bound  around 


The  Idealism  of  Words.  43 

his  brows ;  a  '  ROBE  '  is  cousin-german  to  rob :  the 
primitive  rude,  self-helping  meii  robbed  from  the  lion 
or  the  bear  or  the  wolf  his  hide — de-spoiled  him  as 
we  say,  exultingly  cast  it  about  his  own  shoulders  and 
so  the  man  was  the  richer  by  his  '  robe'  and  the  beast 
the  poorer  by  his  skin  !  Nay,  *  SCEPTRES  '  were  origi- 
nally but  willow-wands  and  the  '  THRONE'  itself  is  but 
a  chair  /—nay,  merely  a  stool,  as  our  humble  Saxon 
progenitors  had  it.  * 

'  TABERNACLE,'  again,  is  another  word  with  a  hum- 
ble enough  origin — being  primtively  a  mere  taker- 
naculum,  a  tent  or  hut.  *  PARADISE'  to  the  oriental 
was  simply  aparlc  or  pleasure-ground.  So,  too,  *  FISCAL' 
unmistakably  points  to  the  fiscus,  or  wicker  basket 
which,  in  early  times  contained  the  revenue  of  the 
State,  f  A  '  FURLONG  '  was  once  a  furrow-long,  or 
length  of  a  furrow  ;  a  field  of  any  size  was  once  termed 
an  *  ACRE  '  (German  acker ) ;  '  DRACHM  '  in  the  elder 
Greek  meant  a  handful,  and  '  MYRIAD  '  any  great 
number.  And  when  Homer  alludes  to  a  certain  Hero 

*  See  King  Alfred's  Translation  of  Boeihius  de  Consolatione 
Philosophies . 

t  So  to  c  CONFISCATE'  is  evidently  to  put,  forcibly,  one's  posses- 
sions in  along  with  (con)  what  is  in  the  basket  (fiscus)  or  hamper 
of  the  State — "  to  adjudge  to  be  forfeited  to  the  public  treasury." 
Webster. 


44  Ramble  Third. 

counting  his  sheep,  he  employs  the  expression 
fl-sfMrcrfdai,  etc., — l&efived  them — showing  that  their  five 
fingers  were  originally  the  limits  of  their  arithmetical 
notions.  And  whether  or  not  there  be  any  connection 
between  deka  (ten)  and  duo  echo,  *  or  between  pente 
(five)  and  panta  (all),  our  '  DIGIT  '  (Latin  digitus,  a 
finger}  at  least  gives  a  strong  confirmation  to  the  sup- 
position; while  'CALCULATE'  clearly  tells  of  the 
calculi,  or  pebbles  which  the  ancients  employed  to  assist 
them  in  their  arithmetical  difficulties. 

A  ludicrous  example  of  this  same  attempt  to  tint 
things  up  couleur  de  rose  is  furnished  in  the  word 
'  PAMPER,'  a  term  which  the  Italians  have  given  us — 
being,  I  believe,  in  their  language  pambere,  that  is, 
4  pane,'  bread,  and  { bere '  drink — so  that  it  was  origi- 
nally nothing  more  luxurious  than  bread  and  drink, 
plenty  even  of  that,  however,  being  considered  as 
enough  to  '  pamper '  one.  Just  as  the  French  viande, 
meat,  flesh,  becomes  our  English  'VIANDS'  which 
carries  the  idea  of  something  more  dainty  still ! 

Again  that  French  verb  affronter  which  merely 
implies  a  meeting  face  to  face — a  coming  up,  adfrons, 
to  the  forehead,  without  any  necessary  hostility — gives 

*  Just  as  I  have  seen  it  stated  that  the  Gothic  Teiga,  tein,  our 
'  TEX  '  is  just  tai-hun  that  is  two  hands  I  But  Tooke  is  more 
rational. 


The  Idealism  of  Words.  45 

us  our  'AFFRONT,'  with  all  its  causticity  of  application. 
We  said  it  did  not  necessarily  imply  hostility.  Shake- 
speare suggests  numerous  examples  of  its  employment 
in  this  neutral  sense.  Thus,  in  Hamlet,  the  King 

says: 

"  For  we  have  closely  sent  for  Hamlet  hither ; 
That  he,  as  'twere  by  accident,  may  here 
Affront  [that  is,  simply,  may  meet]  Ophelia." 

Hamlet  ILL  1. 

And  indeed  it  would  seem  impossible  for  us  irascible 
Saxons  to  have  even  an  *  ENCOUNTER  '  without  con- 
verting it  into  a  downright  battle.  A  'MEETING-' 
almost  always  conveys  the  idea  of  something  sinister 
hidden  beneath  it.  And  we  cannot  have  even  the 
slightest  cause  of  complaint — querela — without  picking 
a  *  QUARREL'  out  of  it ! 

It  may  be  worth  noticing  in  this  connection,  the 
feelings,  embalmed  in  language,  which  have  given  rise 
to  words  expressive  of  Grandeur  and  Pettiness — may 
we  not  read  therein  a  curious  piece  of  man's  mind  ? 
There  seems  to  have  been  all  along  a  very  natural, 
yet  rather  ludicrous  association  of  grandeur  and  petti- 
ness with  mere  physical  greatness  or  littleness.  Thus 
our  metaphorical  (  GRAND  '  is  simply  the  French  grand 
— implying  merely  tall,  large;  while  their  petit,  or 


46  Ramble  Third. 

little,  become  our  '  PETTY  '  which  is  less  still.*  But, 
indeed,  there  is  something  so  impressive  and  imposing 
about  bodily  bigness,  that  we  wonder  not  that  those 
old  heroic  Normans  (or  Northmen)  did  appear  very 
'  r/iaj/iificent,'  with  their  great  tallness — what  they 
called  'HAUTEUR'  (haut,  high\  which,  alas,  all  too 
soon  degenerated  into  mere  '  HAUGHTINESS  ;'  or  that 
their  *  MAJESTIES,'  'HIGHNESSES,'  'MAGNATES'  and 
'  GRANDEES  '  should  soon  have  absorbed  all  nobility 
and  authority. 

Often,  too,  has  man  tried  to  gild  over  his  vices 
with  a  fine  name,  calling  those  '  GALLANTS  '  who  have 
no  claim  to  the  title,  giving  to  persons  whose  sad  life 
can  be  gilded  with  but  few  rays  of  genuine  joy  the 
appellation  of  '  FILLES  DE  JOIE,'  covering  a  blackleg 
with  the  mantle  of  'CHEVALIER  D'INDUSTRIE,'  and 
declaring  that  a  'PARAMOUR'  is  one  who  is  loved — 
par  amour — very  affectionately^  although,  by  the  way, 
Flute,  the  bellows-mender,  understood  the  matter 
better  than  that : 

"  Flute.  He  hath  simply  the  best  wit  of  any  handicraft  man  in 
Athens. 

*  French  "bigness  (gros,  grosse),  however,  degenerates  into 
English  '  CROSSNESS,'  a  fact  of  curious  historic  significance. 

t  And  see  it  used  in  this  good  sense  throughout  the  whole  of 
our  old  English  literature. 


The  Idealism  of  Words.  47 

Quince.  Yea,  and  the  best  person  too :  and  he  is  a  very  para- 
mour for  a  sweet  voice. 

Flute.  You  must  say,  '  PARAGON  :'  a  paramour  is,  God  bless  us, 
a  thing  of  naught." 

Midsummer  Nights'  Dream  IV.  2. 

On  the  contrary  words  often  do  not  get  their  due, 
and  debts  which  they  never  contracted  are  laid  to 
their  account.  A  'LIBEL/  for  instance,  is  properly 
just  a  libellus,  a  little  book — what  we  call  a,  pamphlet: 
as  if  it  would  insinuate  that  the  only  purpose  of  such 
is  to  defame  and  malign !  So  a  *  LEGEND  '  is  simply 
something  to  be  read — legendum  ;*  while  '  REVEREND  ' 
evidently  declares  that  it  ought  to  be  revered — reve- 
rendus;  and  a  'MAXIM'  affirms  that  it  is — maximum 
— of  the  greatest  importance.  So  '  CATEE,'  which  is 
coming  with  us  to  acquire  a  somewhat  contemptuous 
meaning,  has  no  such  stain  on  its  birth — it  is  simply 
to  buy  or  purchase  (acheter)  for  one.  So  I  find  in 
Ben  Jonson 

"  He  is  my  ward-robe  man,  my  acater,  cook, 

Butler  and  steward." 

The  Devil  an  Ass  I.  3.1 

*  For  the  corruption  of  this  word  see  Tooke's  Diversions  of 
Purley. 

t  Here  the  word  is  acater,  which  is  nearly  the  original  form, 
and  yet  in  Chaucer  I  find  it  achator  (Canterbury  Tales  570  et 
passim)  which  is  nearer  still. 


48  Ramble  Third. 

*  OBSEQUIOUS  '  is  another  instance  of  this  same 
downward  tendency  in  words.  For  primitively  the 
word  has  no  opprobrious  import,  signifying  simply 
following  after,  a  meaning  which  becomes  present 
from  our  use  of  '  OBSEQUIES'  which  is  just  the  following 
the  dead  to  the  tomb ;  and  in  the  elder  dramatists  we 
frequently  meet  with  this  primary  application  of 
*  obsequious.'  Thus  Shakespeare 

"  How  many  a  holy  and  obsequious  [that  is  funereal]  tear 
Hath  dear  religious  love  stolen  from  mine  eye, 
As  interest  of  the  dead." 

Sonnet  XXXI. 

Now,  however,  we  employ  it  but  to  express  that 
cringing  compliance  that  leads  one  to  follow  after  the 
favor  or  fancy  of  another,  or  shape  one's  principles  or 
practice  according  to  his  whims.  And  lastly  I  may 
mention  the  term  *  GOSSIP  '  which  tells  a  strange  story : 
for  originally  it  was  just  the  name  applied  to  sponsors 
at  baptism — literally  God-sibb:  'sibb,'  related  (to  the 
child,  in  or  through)  God!  Verstegan  makes  the 
matter  clear : 

"  Our  Christian  ancestors  understanding  a  spirituall  affinity  for 
to  grow  betweene  the  parents,  and  such  as  undertooke  for  the 
childe  at  baptisme,  called  each  other  by  the  name  of  God-sib, 


The  Idealism  of  Words.  49 

which  is  as  much  as  to  say  as  that  they  were  sib  together,  i.e.  of 
kin  together  through  God." 

Restitution  of  Decayed  Intelligence,  C.  7.* 

But,  while  we  have,  on  the  one  hand,  words  which 
have  strengthened,  and  on  the  other  hand,  words 
which  have  softened  and  degenerated  in  signification, 
we  have  also  words  which  have  completely  changed 
meaning — perfect  turn-coats :  not  mere  renegades,  as 
are  the  others,  but  downright  deserters. 

How  amazed,  for  instance,  would  one  of  our  sturdy 
old  English  writers  be,  were  he  told,  by  some  modern, 
tea-imbibing  dame  that  she  was  very  '  nervous? 
Viewing  the  word  from  the  Latin  stand-point— seeing 
in  it  merely  the  classic  nervosus,  sinewy,  '  muscular  * — 
an  epithet  only  applicable  to  the  stalwart  strength  of 
manhood,  and  which  even  we  can  appreciate  from  the 
employment  of  our  'nervous  style,' — we  can  easily 

*  Webster  bungles  over  this  word.  Verstegan  would  have 
enlightened  him,  or  Junius  either,  for  that  matter.  For,  as 
Junius  remarks,  these  gossips  under  cloak  of  this  'SPIRITUALL 

AFFINITY'  used  often  to  meet  to  tell  stories  and 

tipple  over  them ! — a  circumstance  from  which  we  in  English 
derive  our  expression  'TO  GO  A  GOSSIPING'  etc.  And  it  is  a 
curious  coincidence  that  the  French  for  '  gossip '  is  commerage 
from  commere,  a  god-mother — a  precisely  analogous  process 
having  taken  place  in  the  word. 

3 


50  Ramble  Third. 

imagine  how  the  worthy  would  be  either  petrified 
(even  though  he  might  not  be  turned  into — petra — 
stone)  with  amazement ;  or  at  least  he  would  regard 
the  good  lady  as  indulging  in  a  joke  !*  And  how 
much  of  Carlyle's  teaching  is  but  a  fiery  plaint  of  the 
sad  seduction  so  painfully  visible  in  the  abysmal  gulf 
that  has  come  to  intervene  between  *  KEN  '  and  '  CAN  ' 
— which,  we  are  aware,  were  once  one  and  the  same. 
But  this  was  before  '  CANNING  '  had  become  cunning  ; 
or  'CUNNING'  had  grown  synonymous  with  crafty. 
So  that  then  the  Baconian  apothegm,  Knowledge  is 
Power  was  to  them  a  mere  truism:  since  it  only 
asserted  that  Ken-mug  is  Can-ning  I 

How  titanic  is  the  power  which  many  words  wield ! 
Indeed,  in  numerous  instances,  so  terrible  is  the  in- 

*  In  regard  to  this  term  Pegge  says:  "A  word  which  till 
lately  when  applied  to  a  man  was  expressive  of  Muscular 
strength,  and  a  Brawny  make;  and  thence  metaphorically  a 
strong  and  forcible  style  is  called  nervous  and  energetic :  whereas 
now  it  is  used  only,  in  a  contrary  sense,  to  express  a  man  whose 
nerves  are  weak,  and  absolute  enervation." 

Anecdotes  of  the  Eng.  Lang,  page  264. 

For  this  corrupt  usage,  he  proposes  nervish  ! 

Bailey,  in  his  Dictionary  gives  it  in  its  primitive  signification 
of  strength  and  vigor — and  says  that  when  applied  to  persons 
of  weak  nerves  it  is  a  "  medical  cant" 


The  Idealism  of  Words.  51 

fluence  they  exercise  that  mankind  has  been  compelled 
to  break  away  in  affright  from  their  sway  into  the  do- 
main of  others  less  potent.  Of  this  we  have  a  well- 
known  instance  in  that  dangerous  African  cape,  ever  so 
fatal  to  mariners,  and  which  the  wrathful  "  Spirit  of 
the  Cape"  lashes  into  foaming  fury.  Long  was  it  all 
too  truthfully  known  by  the  name  of  the  "  Cape  of 
Storms ;"  but  this  was  to  recognize  the  danger  (whereas 
the  feared  and  the  fearful  must  ever  be  nameless) ;  and 
so,  buoying  up  their  courage,  they  gave  it  the  more 
cheerful  appellation  of  the  "Cape  of  Good  Hope." 
Again,  how  chilling  to  the  ardor  of  the  soldier  must 
be  that  word  '  FORLORN-HOPE  ' — men  sent  on  a  service 
attended  with  such  peril  that  hope  must  be — -forlorn — 
relinquished,  left  behind  by  them. 

But  it  is  in  Poetry's  mightier  idealizations  that  a  far 
loftier  idealism  discloses  itself — in  tones  drawn  by  the 
Master's  hand  from  the  lyre  of  humanity — in  the  wild 
ravings  of  an  old  un -Kinged  Lear,  in  an  Othello's 
bursts  of  wailing  sadness  or  tempestuous  madness — 

"  My  wife !  my  wife !  what  wife  ? — /  have  no  wife  /" 
Or,  when  Cleopatra,  refering  to  the  asp,  says : 

" Peace,  Peace ! 


Dost  thou  not  see  my  baby  at  my  breast, 
That  sucks  the  nurse  asleep  f" 


52  Ramble  Third. 

Or  when  with  the  true  prerogative  of  genius — to 
marry  the  phenomena  of  nature  with  the  moods  of 
man's  mind — Shakespeare  sees  types  of  insanity  in 
the  green  scum  of  the  standing-pool — Poor  Tom 

"  Drinks  the  green  mantle  of  the  standing  pool !" 

'Tis  in  the  loftier  and  serener  empyrean  of  Poetry 
that  we  catch  lineaments — shadowy  and  far  away — 
of  a  supernal  beauty  that  haunts  and  will  not  leave  us 
and  hear  tones  of  more  than  mortal  pathos  and  power. 

"  In  the  silence  of  the  night 
How  we  shiver  with  affright," 

at  memories  awakened  perchance  by  some  one  weak 
word — weak,  yet  winged :  a  mere  breathing,  and  yet 
vitalized  by  the  very  spirit  of  life.  And  so,  under 
the  guidance  of  Bishop  Hutchinson,  let  us  return; 
"  And  to  make  short  of  this  argument,  we  doubt  not 
but  many  wise  men  have  too  mean  an  opinion  of  the 
power  of  words  and  take  too  little  care  about  them : 
for  though  the  words  of  a  fool  are  little,  the  words  of 
a  wise  man  are  wonderful.  "Words  are  the  judges 
of  our  thoughts,  the  land-marks  of  all  interests ;  and 
the  wheels  of  our  human  world  are  turned  by  them. 
They  move  interests  that  are  greater  than  mountains, 
and  many  a  time  have  subdued  kingdoms.  Eiches  and 


The  Idealism  of  Words.  53 

Poverty,  Love  and  Hatred,  and  even  Life  and  Death  are 
in  the  power  of  the  tongue,  and  when  their  effects  are 
least  they  are  still  the  character  of  the  mind  and  abilities 
of  him  who  speaks  them ;  and  when  they  are  first  and 
natural,  though  plain  and  unaffected  they  carry  charms 
that  are  superior  to  the  beauty  of  the  fairest  face,  while 
the  improper  use  of  them  shows  ignorance  of  words 
that  are  understood  by  others,  they  lessen  the  man  and 
make  the  picture  as  mean  as  sign-post  painting."  * 

'  TKANSIENT  '  is  a  suggestive  word.  It  is  transiens — 
passing  away  !  With  plaintive  sadness  it  sings  the 
requiem  of  human  life.  Said  Ina's  queen,  "  Are  not 
all  things,  are  not  we  ourselves  like  a  river  hurrying 
heedless  and  headlong  to  the  dark  ocean  of  illimitable 
time  ?"  And  I  find  in  the  Romaunt  of  the  Rose  this 
antique  rhyme,  through  which  the  same  figure  runs : 

"  The  time  that  passith  night  and  daie, 
And  restilesse  travailith  aie, 
And  stelith  from  us  privily, 
That  to  us  semith  sikirly 
That  it  in  one  poinct  dwellith  ever, 
And  certes  it  ne  restith  never, 
But  goeth  as  fast  and  passeth  aie 

*  From  a  curious  old  tract,   entitled,  "  The  Many  Advantages 
of  A  Good  Language  to  any  Nation." 


54  Ramble  Third. 

That  ther  n'is  man  that  thinkin  male 
What  time  that  now  present  is, 
Askith  at  these  grete  clerkis  this ; 
For  men  thinken  redily 
Thre  timis  ben  ypassed  by 
The  tune  that  maie  not  sojourn, 
But  goth  and  maie  never  returne, 
As  watir  that  doune  runnith  aie, 
But  never  droppe  returne  maie." 

How  sublime  is  the  allusion  in  l  NATURE  '  (natus, 
natura,  to  be  bom),  the  being  bom,  or  indeed  the  refer- 
ence in  Latin  is  to  the  future,  as  though  it  would 
indicate  that  she  is  no  dead  mass,  but  a  living  and 
ever-evolving  Whole.  And  indeed  she  is  our  mother, 
too — nourishing  us  tenderly  on  her  breast,  shedding 
around  us  her  balmy,  balsamic  influences,  and  gently 
at  last  rocking  us  to  sleep  with  sphere-music  and  old 
eternal  melodies.  Shelley,  her  loveliest  and  lornest 
child,  shall  sing  her  paean. 

"  Mother  of  this  unfathomable  world  I 
Favour  my  solemn  song,  for  I  have  loved 
Thee  ever,  and  thee  only ;  I  have  watched 
Thy  shadow,  and  the  darkness  of  thy  steps, 
And  my  heart  ever  gazes  on  the  depth 
Of  thy  deep  mysteries.     I  have  made  my  bed 
In  charnels  and  on  coffins,  where  black  death 
Keeps  record  of  the  trophies  won  from  thee, 


The  Idealism  of  Words.  55 

Hoping  to  still  these  obstinate  questionings 

Of  thee  and  thine,  by  forcing  some  lone  ghost, 

Thy  messenger,  to  render  up  the  tale 

Of  what  we  are.     In  lone  and  .silent  hours, 

When  night  makes  a  weird  sound  of  its  own  stillness, 

Like  an  inspired  and  desperate  alchymist 

Staking  his  very  life  on  some  dark  hope, 

Have  I  mixed  awful  talk  and  asking  looks 

With  my  most  innocent  love,  until  strange  tears, 

Uniting  with  those  breathless  kisses,  made 

Such  magic  as  compels  the  charmed  night 

To  render  up  thy  charge  :  and  though  ne'er  yet 

Thou  hast  unveiled  thy  inmost  sanctuary ; 

Enough  from  incommunicable  dream,* 

And  twilight  phantasms,  and  deep  noon-day  thought, 

Has  shone  within  me,  that  serenely  now 

And  moveless,  as  a  long-forgotten  lyre 

Suspended  in  the  solitary  dome 

Of  some  mysterious  and  deserted  fane 

I  wait  thy  breath,  Great  Parent,  that  my  strain 

May  modulate  with  murmurs  of  the  air, 

And  motions  of  the  forests  and  the  sea, 

And  voice  of  living  beings,  and  woven  hymns 

Of  night  and  day,  and  the  deep  heart  of  man !" 

ALASTOR.     J 


RAMBLE  FOURTH. 

FOSSIL   POETRIES. 

"  Language  is  fossil  poetry.  The  Etymologist  finds  the  deadest 
word  to  have  been  once  a  brilliant  picture.  As  the  limestone  of 
the  continent  consists  of  infinite  masses  of  the  shells  of  animal- 
cules, so  language  is  made  up  of  images  or  tropes,  which  now, 
in  their  secondary  use,  have  long  ceased  to  remind  us  of  their 
poetic  origin." 

EMERSON. 

ALL  words  are,  more  or  less,  poetry.  For  word- 
making  is  an  organic  creation  of  the  mind  and  runs 
parallel  with  the  processes  of  nature  and  is  the  crown 
and  consummation  of  the  world.  The  Hindus,  in  their 
free  and  fluent  mythology,  conceived  the  second  act 
of  Brahma  to  have  been  the  Naming :  and  it  is  re- 
ported of  Pythagoras  that  he  thought  that  of  all  wise 
men  he  was  not  only  the  most  rational  but  also  the 
most  ancient  who  gave  the  names  to  things.  The  poet 
is  by  divine  right  the  proper  Namer.  Through  sym- 


Fossil  Poetries.  57 

pathy  with,  the  grand  substantial  Words  of  the  world 
he  imports  into  human  speech  the  utterance  of  orphic 
Nature.  Material  forms — ocean,  air,  soil,  fire,  stars, 
life,  growths — these  are  sublime  primeval  Words. 
These  the  Expressive  passion  dissolves  into  plastic 
symbols.  And  the  poet  gives  voice  to  mankind. 

0,  shining  trails  of  bards  and  builders !  "  Think- 
est  thou  there  were  no  poets  till  Dan  Chaucer?" 
asks  Thomas  Carlyle — "  No  heart  burning  with 
a  thought  which  it  could  not  hold,  and  had  no  word 
for,  and  needed  to  shape  and  coin  a  word  for, — what 
thou  callest  a  metaphor,  trope,  or  the  like  ?  For  every 
word  we  have,  there  was  such  a  man  and  poet.  The 
coldest  word  was  once  a  glowing  new  metaphor,  and 
bold  questionable  originality.  My  very  attention,  does 
it  not  mean  an  attentio,  a  slretching-to  f  Fancy  that 
act  of  the  mind,  which  all  were  conscious  of,  which 
none  had  yet  named, — when  this  new  poet  first 
felt  bound  and  driven  to  name  it !  His  question- 
able originality,  and  new  glowing  metaphor,  was  found 
adoptable,  intelligible,  and  remains  our  name  for  it  to 
this  day." 

Words  are  often  the  expressed  essence  of  poetry — 
redolent  as  flowers  in  spring.  '  AUKOKA  '  comes  to  us 


58  Ramble  Fourth. 

a  snatch  of  that  flowing  Grecian  Mythus  that  idealized 
universal  nature  ;  and  even  to  us  is  she  the  "rosy- 
fingered  daughter  of  the  morn" 


And  '  MOKN,'  too,  is  a  sweet  poem,  coming  to  us 
from  an  old  Gothic  verb  Mergan,  to  dissipate,  to  dis- 
perse :  so  that  the  meaning  of  '  morn  '  (as  also  '  mor- 
ning' and  'morrow')  is  just  the  time  when  darkness 

is 


"  The  nyght  is  passed,  lo  the  morrowe  graye, 
The  fresshe  Aurora  so  fayre  in  apparance 
Her  lyght  dawith,  to  voyde  all  offence 

Of  wynter  nyghtes." 

Lyfe  of  our  Lady. 

1  LETHE  '  is  another  classicism  :  'tis  the  river  of  for- 
geij.  ilness — "  the  oblivious  pool."  "What  a  romance  in 
*  Hyperborean  '—that  is,  beyond  the  region  of  Boreas — 
whe.re  dwelt  a  pious  and  happy  race:  said  to  be  a 
Homeric  creation.  'LEVANT,'  'ORIENT,'  and  'OCCI- 
DENT,' are  all  poems.  And  so  is  that  noble  Saxon 
(  MAIN,'  that  is  the — Mczgen — strong  one : 

"A  shepherd  in  the  Hebrid  isles 


Placed  far  amid  the  melancholy  main." 


Fossil  Poetries.  59 

The  *  DAISY  '  has  often  been  cited  as  fragrant  with 
poesy  :  'tis  the  day's  eye  (Saxon,  daeges  ege).  Chaucer 
has  these  affectionate  lines : 

"  Of  all  the  floures  in  the  mede 
Than  love  I  most  these  floures  of  which  I  rede, 
Such  that  men  call  daisies  in  our  town, 
To  them  I  have  so  great  affectioun " 

Nor  is  he  alone  in  his  love  for  the 

"  Wee,  modest,  crimson- tippet  flower  1" 

Quite  an  odoriferous  etymologic  bouquet  might  we 
cull  from  the  names  of  Flora's  children.  What  a 
beauty  in  'PRIMROSE'  which  is  just  the  prime-rose,  the 
first  rose;  the  '  SWEET  WILLIAM;'  the  'MORNING 
GLORY,'  except  when  a  pompous  classical  terminology 
would  convert  it  into  a  convolvulus  I  How  many 
sweet  associations  cluster  around  the  '  FORGET-ME- 
NOT,'  around  the  'ANEMONE'  (anemos,  the  wind- 
flower)  into  which  Venus'  changed  her  Adonis  I  Again 
is  there  not  poetry  in  calling  a  certain  family  of 
minute  Crustacea — whose  two  eyes  meet  and  form  a 
single  spot  in  the  centre  of  the  head — 'CYCLOPS?' 
And  if  any  one  thinketh  there  cannot  be  poetry  even 
in  the  technicalities  of  science  let  him  remember 


60  Ramble  Fourth. 

1  CORAL  '  which  in  the  Greek  means  a  sea  damsel,  or 
the  chemical  '  COBALT*  which  is  said  to  be  the  German 
Kobold,  a  goblin,  the  demon  of  the  mines :  so  called 
bj  miners  from  its  being  troublesome  to  work.  To 
be  sure  Science  is  a  terrible  destroyer  of  these  fine 
phantasies.  But, 


"  Still  the  heart  doth  need  a  language,  still 
Doth  the  old  instinct  bring  back  the  old  names.' 

"  There  shall  be  no  more  magic  nor  cabala, 
Nor  Rosicrudan,  nor  Alchemic  lore, 
Nor  fairy  fantasies ;  no  more  hobgoblins, 
Nor  ghosts,  nor  imps,  nor  demons.     Conjurors, 
Enchanters,  witches,  wizards,  shall  all  die 
Hopeless  and  heirless;  their  divining  arts, 
Supernal  or  infernal — dead  with  them!" 

Bailey's  Festus. 


The  'Student's7  prediction  is  indeed  fully  verified; 
and  yet  must  it  not  have  been  a  terrible  reality  which 
could  leave  so  large  a  precipitate  as  this,  from  the 
alembic  ? 

"We  are  not  apt,  in  this  practical  age,  to  be  very 
profoundly  devoted  to  astrolatry,  and  yet  do  we  ever 
'CONSIDER'  without  holding  commerce  with  the — 


Fossil  Poetries.  61 

sidera* — stars?  The  planets,  with  their  heavenly 
houses,  are  now  to  us  all  mute  and  motionless — with 

"No  real  voice  nor  sound ;" 

and  yet  is  not  one  man  'mercurial;1  another  l  jovial]1 
a  third  '  martial '  and  a  fourth  '  saturnme '  according 
as  the  planet  rules  his  destiny  ?  We  are  not  very 
much  given  to  erecting  figures  of  the  Heavens,  and 
determining  'horoscopes'  (horoskopos,  and  so,  literally, 
the  observing  the  hora  or  hour  of  one's  birth — that 
being  necessary  in  casting  a  *  nativity) :'  and  yet  are 
not  our  fortunes  sometimes  in  the  '  ascendant ;'  are 
there  not  those  who  are  'ill-starred,'  meet  we  not  with 
'  dis-asters  T  And  '  INFLUENCE,'  too,  looks  back  to  a 
time  when  the  stars  shot  their  sweet  impartings  to 
man's  heart.  So  even  the  nonchalant  Frenchman 
persists  in  talking  about  his  '  loon-heur '  and  his  '  mal- 
heur1 — which,  of  course,  we  recognise  as  being  naught 
other  than  a  good  or  bad  hour — a  good  or  bad  horo- 
scope. Perhaps  may  there  be  more  truth  than  one 
might  be  apt  to  suppose  in  this  quaint  passage  from 

*  The  word  may  indeed  be  from  consido  ;  as  Webster  asserts 
it  is.  But  it  is  characteristic  of  our  Yankee  lexicographer  to 
lean  towards  the  more  unpoetical  of  disputed  derivations — neces- 
sary result  of  his  absurd  theory  of  radices. 


62  Ramble  Fourth. 

Chaucer — which  sounds  forth  here  like  a  fragment  of 
some  antique  ritual : 

I 
"  Peraventure  in  thilke  lerge  book 

Which  that  men  clepe  the  Heven  ywritten  was 

With  sterres,  when  that  he  his  birthe  took, 

That  he  for  love  shuld  han  his  deth,  alas ! 

For  hi  the  sterres,  clerer  than  is  glas 

Is  writen,  God  wot,  who  so  coud  it  rede, 

The  deth  of  every  man  withouten  drede, 

In  sterres  many  a  winter  ther  beforn 

Was  writ  the  death  of  Hector,  Achilles, 

Of  Pompey,  Julius,  or  they  were  born 

The  strif  of  Thebes,  and  of  Hercules, 

Of  Sampson,  Turnus,  and  of  Socrates 

The  deth ;  but  mennes  wittes  ben  so  duU 

That  110  wight  can  wd  rede  it  at  thefuU." 

The  Man  of  Lawes  Tale. 

And  so  Emerson  tells  us  that, 

"  The  old  men  studied  magic  in  the  flowers, 
And  human  fortunes  in  Astronomy, 
And  an  omnipotence  in  Chemistry."* 

But  the  age  of  Faith,  like  the  age  of  Chivalry,  has 
gone  by.     We  have  dissolved  partnership  with  yon 

*  Emerson's  Poems :  "  Blight." 


Fossil  Poetries.  63 

starry  world:  the  spheral  harmonies  reach  not  our 
dull  ears. 

So  too,  have  gone  trooping  back  to  the  land  of 
oblivion  the  '  GNOMES  '  and  the  '  IMPS  '  (surely  nothing 
very  terrible,  since  the  word  meant  primarily  merely 
a  shoot  or  scion — a  son) ;  and  the  '  DEMONS  '  (who 
were  at  first  gods)]  and  the  'GHOSTS'*  and  the 
'  GHOULS'  and  the  *  GENII  :' 

"And  there  were  wandering  on  the  highest  mountains  of 
Yemen  visionary  forms — and  they  described  them  by  the  names 
of  Dogin  or  Genii,  Ghouls  or  Demons"^ 

1  CHARM,'  '  INCHANT  '  and  '  INCANTATION  '  all  trace 
their  genesis  to  the  time  when  spells  were  in  vogue. 
'CHARM'  is  just  carmen,  from  the  fact  of  a  sort  of 
runic  rhyme  having  been  used  in  this  sort  of  diablerie. 
So  '  FASCINATION  '  recalls  the  era  when  the  blight  of 
the  evil  eye  was  an  object  of  terror.  By  the  way 

*  By  the  way  our  quite  ww-ghostly  '  GAS  '  is  from  the  same 
root — German  geist,  to  rush,  to  blow — spirit 

t  From  a  cabalistic  enough  MS  (referred  to  in  the  Account 
of  the  MSS  in  the  Bibliotheque  du  Roi),  with  the  following 
magnificent  title:  "The  G-olden  Meadows  and  the  Mines  of 
Precious  Stones,  by  Aboul-hassan-Aly,  son  of  A-Khair,  son  of 
Aly,  son  of  Abderrahman,  son  of  Abdallah,  son  of  Masoud-el- 
Hadheli  surnamed  Masoudi." 


64  Ramble  Fourth. 

'SPELL'   means    simply  word.      Says    Sir    Thomas 
Browne : 

"  Some  have  delivered  the  polity  of  spirits,  that  they  stand  in 
awe  of  charms,  spells,  and  conjurations,  letters,  characters,  notes 
and  dashes." 

Note,  too,  that  from  spell  we  get  our  '  GOSPEL,'  that 
is  God's  spell — (rod's  word. 

To  conclude  all  of  which,  take  the  following  exqui- 
site passage  from  that  most  etherial  "  Undine  "  of  De 
la  Motte  Fouque.  (By  the  way  is  not  Undine  from 
unda,  a  wave:  that  is  a  water-sprite T) :  "You  must 
know,  that  there  are  beings  in  the  elements,  which 
bear  the  strongest  resemblance  to  the  human  race,  and 
which,  at  the  same  time,  seldom  become  visible  to 
you.  The  wonderful  salamanders  sparkle  and  sport 
among  the  flames ;  deep  in  the  earth  the  meagre  and 
malicious  gnomes  pursue  their  revels,  the  forest-spirits 
belong  to  the  air  and  wander  in  the  woods ;  while  in 
the  seas,  rivers  and  streams  live  the  wide-spread  race 
of  water-spirits.  These  last  beneath  resounding  domes 
of  crystal,  through  which  the  sky  appears  with  sun 
and  stars,  inhabit  a  region  of  light  and  beauty  ;  lofty 
coral  trees  glow  with  blue  and  crimson  fruits  in  their 
gardens ;  they  walk  over  the  pure  sand  of  the  sea, 
among  infinitely  variegated  shells,  and  amid  whatever 


Fossil  Poetries.  65 

of  beauty  the  old  world  possessed,  such  as  the  present 
is  no  more  worthy  to  enjoy ;  creations  which  the 
floods  covered  with  their  secret  veils  of  silver ;  and 
now  those  noble  monuments  glimmer  below,  stately 
and  solemn  and  bedewed  by  the  water  which  loves 
them  and  calls  forth  from  their  crevices  exquisite 
moss-flowers  and  enwreathing  tufts  of  sedge." 

It  is  not  alone  in  Oriental  tale  that  speakers  drop 
pearls :  we  can  scarcely  open  our  lips  without  giving 
utterance  to  some  rich  primitive  poetic  allusion.  On 
what  a  grand  perception  of  this  wondrous  frame,  with 
its  boundless  unity  in  variety,  is  that  Greek  word 
*  KOSMOS  '  formed  (the  creation  is  ascribed  to  Pytha- 
goras), signifying  as  it  does  harmonic  order  !  So  the 
1  BRUNT  '  of  the  battle  is  just  where  the  battle  burns 
hottest ;  and  the  'WELKIN  '  (Saxon  wealcan,  to  roll)  is 
that  which  rolls  over  our  heads ! 

The  '  halcyon '  days  !  What  a  balmy  serenity  in 
the  name  !  And  its  fitness  becomes  the  more  apparent 
when  we  pierce  to  the  secret  the  word  enwraps.  The 
Alkuon  was  the  name  applied  by  the  Greeks  to  the 
Kingfisher.  Literally  it  implies  sea-conceiving,  from 
the  fact  of  the  bird's  laying  her  eggs  in  rocks  near  the 
sea,  and  the  "  dXxuov«5s£  mtyti. " — the  halcyon  days — were 
the  fourteen  days  during  the  calm  weather  about  the 


66  Ramble  Fourth. 

winter  solstice  during  which  the  bird  was  said  to  build 
her  nest  and  lay  her  eggs. 

The  palm  being  to  the  oriental  of  such  passing  price, 
at  once  food  and  shelter,  we  can  easily  imagine  how 
he  would  so  enhance  its  value  as  to  make  it  the  type 
of  every  thing  prosperous  and  flourishing.  Hence 
our  '  PALMY.'  Sir  Walter  Ealeigh  has  this  passage  : 

"  Nothing  better  proveth  the  excellency  of  this  soil  than  the 
abundant  growing  of  the  palm  trees  without  labour  of  man. 
This  tree  alone  giveth  unto  man  whatsoever  his  life  beggeth  at 
nature's  hand." 

'  STYLE  '  and  '  STILETTO  '  might  seem  radically  very 
different  words ;  and  yet  they  are  something  more 
than  even  cousins-german.  *  STYLE  '  is  from  the 
stylus,  which  the  Greeks  and  Eomans  employed  in 
writing  on  their  tablets ;  and  as  they  were  both  sharp 
and  strong  they  were  capable  of  being  made  a  very 
formidable  weapon.  Cassar  himself,  it  is  supposed, 
got  his  quietus  by  means  of  a  stylus.  Many  who 
have  felt  the  bitter,  biting  tooth  of  '  SARCASM  '  will 
hardly  be  disposed  to  consider  it  a  metaphor,  even 
should  we  trace  it  to  the  Greek  sarlcazo — to  tear  the  flesh 
off—literally  to  'flay.'  'SATIRE5  again,  has  an 
arbitrary  enough  origin.  It  is  satira  from  satur, 
mixed :  the  process  of  derivation  being  as  follows. 


Fossil  Poetries.  67 

Each  species  of  poetry,  among  the  Eomans,  had  its 
own  special  kind  of  versification  ;  thus,  the  hexameter 
was  used  in  epics,  the  iambic  in  the  drama,  etc.  En- 
nius,  however,  the  earliest  Eoman  '  satirist,'  first 
disregarded  this  conventionality,  and  produced  a 
medley  (satur)  of  all  kinds  of  metre.  It  afterwards 
lost  this  idea  of  a  melange,  and  acquired  the  notion  of 
a  poem  directed  against  the  vices  and  follies  of  men. 

How  few  who  use  that  very  vague  word  *  AMBRO- 
SIAL '  are  conscious  of  the  intimation  it  throws  out  of 
the  '  ambrosia '  (ambrotos,  immortal) — the  food  of  the 
gods.  It  afterwards  came  to  be  used  in  the  sense  of  a 
perfume,  hence  fragrant ;  and  that  is  the  primary  idea 
of  our  '  ambrosial ' — instance  Milton's  '  ambrosial 
flowers.'  The  Immortals  in  the  golden  halls  of 
*  many-topped  Olympus '  would  seem  to  have  led 
a  merry  enough  life  of  it  with  their  nectar  and 
ambrosia : 

"And  he  kept  pouring  out  for  all  the  other  gods,  drawing 
nectar  from  the  goblet.  And  then  inextinguishable  laughter 
arose  among  the  immortal  gods,  when  they  saw  Vulcan  bustling 

about  through  the  mansion." 

Iliad,  Book  I. 

But  not  half  as  jolly  were  they  as  Thor,  Odin,  and 
the  Northern  braves,  dead  drunk  over  their  mead 
(meda,  honey,)  and  ale,  from 


68  Ramble  Fourth. 

"  The  ale  cellars  of  the  Jotun 
Which  is  called  Brimir." 

Volitspa. 

1  SERENADE  '  wafts  us  away  to  that  bright  Italian 
land,  where  underneath  the  serene  sky 

Nox  erat,  et  ccelo  fulgebat  Luna  serena 
Inter  minora  sidera, 

the  lover  pours  forth  his  amorous  ditties,  on  the  odorous 
wings  of  the  balmy  air,  to  the  ear  of  his  mistress  and 
the  Night !  A  passage  from  the  older  editions  of  Milton 
will  present  us  with  the  original  orthography  of  the 
word: 

" Nor  in  court  amours, 


Mixt  dance,  or  wanton  mask,  or  midnight  bal, 
Or  serenata,  which  the  starved  lover  sings 
To  his  proud  fair,  best  quitted  with  disdain." 

Paradise  Lost  IV.  767. 

And  Bacon  gives  the  following  account  of  the  origin 
of  the  word  (  CALAMITY  :' 

"  Another  ill  accident  is  drouth,  at  the  spindling  of  the  corn  • 
which  with  us  is  rare ;  but  in  hotter  countries  common :  inso- 
much as  the  word  calamitas,  was  first  derived  from  calamus, 
when  the  corn  coulde  not  get  out  of  the  stalke" 

Natural  History. 


Fossil  Poetries.  69 

This  Etymology  is  at  best  dubious ;  nay,  it  is  alto- 
gether probable  that  it  will  have  to  be  quite  abandoned. 
And  yet  there  is  a  good  degree  of  vraisemblance  in 
the  word,  for  what  could,  in  an  agricultural  community, 
be  a  greater  *  calamity '  than  this  ? 

The  word  '  HEALTH  '  wraps  up  within  it — for,  indeed, 
it  is  hardly  a  metaphor — a  whole  world  of  suggestion. 
It  is  that  which  heakth  or  causeth  to  be  whole — what 
the  Scotch  call  hale :  that  is,  perfect  '  health '  is  that 
state  of  the  man  when  there  is  no  discord  or  division 
in  the  system,  but  when  all  the  functions  conspire  to 
make  a  perfect  one  or  whole.  Carlyle  makes  a  most 
effective  use  of  this  word. 

"  So  long  as  the  several  elements  of  life,  all  fitly  adjusted  can 
pour  forth  their  movement  like  harmonious  tuned  strings,  it  is  a 
melody  and  unison ;  Life,  from  its  mysterious  fountains,  flows  out 
as  in  celestial  music  and  diapason, — which  also  like  that  other 
music  of  the  spheres,  even  because  it  is  perennial  and  complete, 
without  interruption  and  without  imperfection  might  be  fated  to 
escape  the  ear.  Thus,  too,  in  some  languages,  is  the  state  of 
health  well  denoted  by  a  term  expressing  unity :  when  we  feel 
ourselves  as  we  wish  to  be,  we  say  that  we  are  whole." 

Characteristics. 

0,  what  a  wealth  of  truth  and  beauty  lies  in  even 
our  every-day,  fire-side  words  !  And  what  a  fragrance 
have  even  dry  roots ! 


jo  Ramble  Fourth. 

Every  nation  has  its  legend  of  a  Golden  Age,  when 
all  was  young  and  fresh  and  fair,  "  Comme  les  couleurs 
primitifs  de  la  nature,"  ere  the  shadow  of  Sorrow — 
the  shadow  of  ourselves — had  stretched  itself  over  life : 
a  morn  of  Saturnian  rule,  when  gods  walked  and 
talked  with  men.  And  even  now,  in  spite  of  our 
atheism  and  our  apathism,  amid  the  Babel-din  of  the 
great  Living  Present,  the  solemn  voices  of  the  Past 
return  with  soft  wailings  of  pity.  In  the  moonlight 
of  memory  they  revisit  us,  those  visions ! 

The  rainbow  comes  and  goes, 

And  lovely  is  the  rose ; 

The  moon  doth  with  delight 
Look  round  her  when  the  heavens  are  bare  j 

Waters  on  a  starry  night 

Are  beautiful  and  fair; 
The  sunshine  is  a  glorious  birth ; 

And  yet  I  know,  where'er  I  go 
That  there  hath  passed  away  a  glory  from  the  Earth ! 

'Tis  the  mild,  Brahminical  Wordsworth  that  sings. 
Wordsworth,  it  will  be  remembered,  in  that  glorious 
ode — the  "  Intimations  of  Immortality  from  the  Re- 
collections of  early  Childhood  " — develops  the  Platonic 
idea  (shall  we  call  Platonic  the  thought  born  of  every 
fine  spirit  ?)  of  Anamnesis — of  a  shadowy  recollection 


Fossil  Poetries.  71 

of  past  and  eternal  existence  in  the  profundities  of 
the  divine  heart.  "It  sounds  forth  here  a  mournful 
reminiscence  of  a  faded  world  of  gods  and  heroes — 
as  the  echoing  plaint  for  the  loss  of  man's  original 
celestial  state  and  paradisiacal  innocence."  * 

And  then  come  those  transcendent  lines  that  are 
borne  to  us  like  aromatic  breezes  blown  from  the 
Islands  of  the  Blest. 

"  Hence  in  a  season  of  calm  weather 

Though  inland  far  we  be, 
Our  souls  have  sight  of  that  immortal  sea, 

Which  brought  us  hither — 

Can  in  a  moment  travel  thither, 
And  see  the  children  sport  upon  the  shore 
And  hear  the  mighty  waters  rolling  ever  more !' 

But, 

"  descending 

From  those  imaginative  heights  that  yield 
Far-stretching  views  into  Eternity  " —  • 

what  have  Golden  Ages  and  Platonisms  to  do  with 
our  word-strolls  ?  A  good  deal.  For  language  as  the 
mirror  of  the  inmost  consciousness  may  illustrate  both. 
Why  is  it  that  we  generally  speak  of  Death  as  a 
return  or  a  return  home •  and  how  is  it  that  the  same 

*  Frederick  Schlegel:  Philosophy  of  Life. 


72  Ramble  Fourth. 

thought  has  interwoven  itself  with  the  very  warp  and 
woof  of  our  speech  and  song  ?  So  '  decease '  but 
implies  a  withdrawal;  'demise'  a  removal.  It  is 
curious  to  trace  the  thoughts  in  the  minds  of  men  that 
have  given  rise  to  the  various  words  expressing  death. 
Thus  we  have  the  Latin  mors — allied  to  moros  and 
moira,  and  hence,  that  which  is  allotted,  appointed. 
But  both  the  Hellenic  and  Koman  mind  was  averse 
to  expressing  the  dreadful  realism  of  mortality,  by 
these  strong  words,  and  sought  to  veil  it  with  such 
circumlocutions  as  vitam  suam  mutare,  transire  a  seculo  ; 
"  Koi/j^tfaTo  p^aXxsov  utfvov  "  (he  slept  the  brazen  sleep. 
Iliad  4th  book) ;  "  TOV  6s  tfxotfos  oW  JxaXu^sv  "  (and 
darkness  covered  his  eyes :  6th  book). 

But,  why  should  we  mourn  departed  friends,  since 
we  know  they  are  but  lying  in  the  sleeping  place — 
Jcoimeterion — *  CEMETERY  ;'  or  as  the  vivid  old  Hebrew 
faith  expressed  it,  the  house  of  the  living — Bethaim  ? 
And  thus  we  see  that  Language,  that  primitive  organic 
creation  of  the  human  soul,  testifies  to  our  highest 
intuitions  and  aspirations,  and  assures  us  that  He  who 
has,  for  a  season,  enveloped  us  in  the  mantle  of 
this  sleep-rounded  life  will  again  take  us  back  to 
his  fatherly  bosom. 

Thus  profound  are  the  suggestions  of  Words.    And 


Fossil  Poetries. 


pj'W"!! 


even  those  we  toss  about  with  the  most 
fusion  and  the  most  sacrilegious  indifference  are  often 
found,  when  we  catch  the  play  of  allusion,  to  be  the 
most  marvelous  speaking  pictures.  For  corning  as 
they  do  from  the  informing  mind,  even  the  most  start- 
ling metaphor  and  the  wildest  poetic  image  has  a  law 
and  logic  of  its  own.  The  Imagination  bodies  forth 
the  forms  of  things,  visionary,  swift,  shadowy ;  but 
the  living  "Word — the  strain  or  the  statue  or  the 
picture,  seizes  the  fleeting  idols,  and  lo!  they  stand 
perennial  and  imperishable.  Thence  the  Kinship  of 
the  Arts.  The  Arts  are  one  in  that  all  are  outlets  to 
the  Spiritual.  Beneath  their  finite  guises  gleam  down 
glimpses  of  the  Infinite  that  brightens  over  and 
embellishes  all.  High,  clear  and  far  up  sounds  their 
silvery  voice,  awaking  in  the  vasty  deeps  of  con- 
sciousness thrilling  trembling  echoes,  faint  and  far 
away,  of  the  old  eternal  melodies  and  making  even 

"  Our  noisy  years  seem  moments  in  the  being 
Of  the  Eternal  Silence !" 


RAMBLE  FIFTH. 

FOSSIL  HISTORIES 

"  The  most  familiar  words  and  phrases  are  connected  by  im- 
perceptible ties  with  the  reasonings  and  discoveries  of  former 
men  and  distant  times.  When  one  counts  his  wealth  he  finds 
he  has  in  his  hands  coins  which  bear  the  image  and  superscrip- 
tion of  ancient  and  modern  intellectual  dynasties,  and  that  in 
virtue  of  this  possession  acquisitions  are  in  his  power  which  none 
could  ever  have  attained  to,  if  it  were  not  that  the  gold  of  truth 
once  dug  out  of  the  mine  circulates  more  and  more  widely 
among  mankind." 

WHEWELL  :  Philosophy  of  the  Inductive  Sciences. 

WHAT  vast  historical  results  have  come  from  the 
modern  studies  on  Language !  Comparative  Philology 
studying  languages  as  living  organisms — subject  to 
organic  laws  of  growth  and  decay — has  shown  that 
we  possess  in  speech  a  grand  recorded  History  of 
Humanity,  where  in  colossal  outlines  man,  his  affilia- 
tions, migrations,  workings,  growths,  are  drawn. 


Fossil  Histories.  75 

Primordial  creation  and  manifestation  of  the  human 
mind,  the  development  of  language  runs  parallel  with 
the  development  of  humanity.  Language  is  a  perfect 
Geology,  with  its  strata,  formations  and  developments, 
and  these  infinitely  more  intelligible  than  those  of  na- 
ture, because  intellectual,  and — in  the  sublime  thought 
of  Bunsen — carrying  within  themselves  their  order  of 
succession  in  their  own  law  of  development.  And 
what  a  divining-rod  has  language  proved  in  the  hands 
of  the  mighty  modern  masters!  This  is  the  true 
Eosetta-stone  with  -which  a  Champollion  and  a  Kie- 
buhr  and  a  Kawlinson  have  been  able  to  set  the 
antique  nations  on  their  feet  and  restore  the  lost 
threads  of  the  genealogy  of  mankind.  There  is  some- 
thing sublime,  and  which  opens  up  new  spaces  in 
man,  in  that  constructive  Criticism  by  which  from 
slight  linguistic  fragments  the  great  Niebuhr  was 
enabled  to  restore  the  life  and  history  of  the  ancient 
populations  of  Italy.  And  equally  significant  other 
great  circles  of  induction.  By  Philologic  Science  the 
European  nations  have  all  been  tracked  back  to 
Oriental  fountains  of  wisdom  and  thought ;  Egypt  has 
flashed  up  from  the  deeps  of  fifty  centuries  with  her 
antique  and  august  civilization,  and  now  from  the 
deciphering  of  the  cuneiform  inscriptions  of  West 
Asia  are  emerging  those  old  Assyrian  and  Babylonian 


76  Ramble  Fifth. 

worlds,  venerable  with  years,  coevals  of  primeval 
man. 

But  with,  these  colossal  results  of  Comparative 
Philology  it  is  not  our  present  purpose  to  deal.  What 
I  would  show  is  that  in  "Words  themselves  we  have 
pregnant  histories  embalmed — that  in  these  medals 
of  the  mind  we  have  the  record  of  "  ancient  and 
modern  intellectual  dynasties,"  of  vast  moral  and 
social  revolutions,  of  the  unfolding  spirit  of  man. 
"Words  are  the  amber  that  enwraps  and  retains  these 
marvelous  stories,  the  wit  and  the  wisdom,  the  fancies, 
the  follies  and  the  failings  of  humanity  incarnated 
for  ever. 

Sometimes  this-  history  is  that  of  a  nation — with 
the  Spirit  of  its  Laws  and  its  Eeligion  and  its  Litera- 
ture embalmed  imperishable  in  these  fleeting,  yet 
immortal  breathings.  And  often,  too,  these  characters 
— these  runes — are  all  that  remain  to  tell  the  chro- 
nology of  Empires  perished — their 

"  Cloud-capp'd  towers,  their  gorgeous  palaces, 
Their  solemn  temples  " 

all  evanished,  and  these  brief  articulations  alone  left 
to  tell  the  story  of  their  existence.  At  other  times 
the  story  they  tell  may  be  less  important.  It  may  be 


Fossil  Histories.  77 

some  historical  event  retained ;  some  blasted  hypothesis 
sublimated;  some  man  immortalized;  some  creed 
with  merely  verbal  credit ;  some  poetic  pulsation  em- 
bodied ;  or,  it  may  be  a  Nation's  Spirit — its  glory  or 
its  shame  stamped  in  unfading  colors  in  words  that 
perish  not.  And  so  they  all  have  their  family  secrets 
— with  now  a  merely  personal  or  incidental  interest, 
and  again  of  national  and  universal  import. 

And  these  are  the  airy,  the  transient  utterances 
which  we  are  constantly  giving  forth  without  heed, 
almost  without  a  moment's  reflection — tossing  them 
_  from  us  in  prodigal  profusion,  as  if  they  had  no  wit 
or  worth.  Like  the  geodes  that  we  find  on  rivers7 
banks  which,  on  the  outside,  are  rough  and  dirty  and 
uninteresting,  yet  split  them  open  and  the  cavity 
within  holds  things  rich  and  rare — sparkling  with 
crystals  bright  and  beauteous.  So  with  the  words  we 
utter.  They  seem  from  their  very  familiarity  all  trite 
and  homely:  yet  beneath  this  conventional  surface 
lie  fine  fancies,  rich  old  legends  and  deep  historic  lore. 
Let  us,  then,  in  these  our  Kambles,  like  the  Geologist 
take  our  (Etymologic)  hammer  along  with  us ;  and, 
laying  open  the  rocks  we  may  chance  to  meet,  see  if 
we  cannot  discover  fossils  that  tell  of  antique  worlds, 
and  compel  them  to  speak  of  the  poetries  and  the  his- 
tories and  the  moralities  of  the  old  Time  entombed. 


78  Ramble  Fifth. 

The  term  'ROMANCE'  embalms  an  interesting  his- 
tory of  the  chivalric  era  of  the  Middle  Ages — of  that 
epoch  when,  in  the  words  of  Tieck,  "  Believers  sang 
of  Faith ;  lovers  of  Love ;  knights  described  knightly 
actions  and  battles,  and  loving  believing  knights  were 
their  chief  audience." 

Fully  to  appreciate  the  origin  and  application  of 
1  romance '  it  will  be  necessary  to  transport  ourselves 
to  France  and  the  Ninth  Century.  At  this  period  we 
find  an  important  transition  taking  place  in  the  lan- 
guage :  the  Latin  is  dying  out,  Frankish  contributions 
are  coming  in  and  a  new  speech  arising,  the  Lingua 
Romano, — the  Romans  or  Romance  tongue.  Now,  as 
the  tales  of  chivalry — the  lays  of  the  Troubadours  and 
Minnesingers — so  popular  at  this  peried,  were  written 
in  this  idiom,  the  compositions  themselves  took  the 
title  of  Romances  (Romans,  romants,  romaunts  or  what 
not):  so  that,  in  subsequent  times,  any  composition 
that  partook  of  the  .nature  of  these  songs  still  retained 
the  appellation  of  '  romances/  and  that  even  after  the 
distinct  class  of  productions  to  which  the  name 
legitimately  belonged  had  died  out.* 

What  a  strange  piece  of  history  does  l  ORDEAL ' 
contain !  It  took  its  rise  from  a  peculiar  Saxon 

*  Bishop  Percy  has  some  interesting  particulars  in  the  third 
volume  of  the  "Reliques" 


Fossil  Histories.  79 

custom.  This  was  the  trial — ordcel — to  which  accused 
persons  were  subjected  Jo  test  their  guilt  or  innocence, 
and  was  of  two  kinds — by  hot  water  and  by  hot  iron. 
The  modus  operandi  was  as  follows :  The  suspected 
person  was  forced  to  plunge  his  hand  as  far  as  the 
wrist,  or  his  arm  as  far  as  the  elbow  (according  to  the 
magnitude  of  the  crime)  into  a  vessel  of  water  boiling 
'  furiously  hot ;'  take  out  therefrom  a  piece  of  iron 
of  a  certain  weight  and,  after  having  carried  it  a 
certain  distance,  drop  it.  Then  after  three  days  the 
hand  was  inspected  to  see  if  *  foul '  or  '  clean  ' — and 
judgment  pronounced  accordingly.  And  this  literally 
very  '  fiery  trial '  it  is  which  gives  point  to  our 
'  ordeal '  and  perhaps  lies  at  the  root  of  our  expression, 
"  I  would  go  through  fire  and  water  for  you."  * 

Another  social  custom  of  the  Saxons  has  left  us 
several  legacies.  Among  them  every  individual  was 
valued  at  a  certain  amount  of  money,  to  which  amount 
he  was  continually  under  bail  for  his  good  behavior. 
This  sum,  of  course  varied :  the  thane  so  much — the 
churl  so  much — the  thrall  so  much  :  in  fact  it  varied 
according  to  his  worth-ship — what  we  now  call 

*  For  besides  the  ordeal  by  hot  water  there  was  also  that  of 
walking  over  red  hot  ploughshares.  For  a  minute  account  of 
this  curious  custom  consult  Verstegan's  "  Restitution  of  Decayed 
Intelligence  "  and  Turner's  "  History  of  the  Anglo-Saxons." 


8o  Ramble  Fifth. 

'TTOKSHIP.'  "Every  man,"  says  Sharon  Turner,* 
"was  valued  at  a  fixed  sum  which  was  called  his 
were ;  f  and  whosoever  took  his  life  was  punished  by 
having  to  pay  this  were"  Moreover,  in  addition  to 
this,  there  was  a  pecuniary  fine  imposed,  called  the 
wile :  $  and  a  person  thus  paying  the  forfeiture  of  all 
his  worth-ship  presents  us  with  the  original  idea  of  a 
'  FELON  ' — which  is  asserted  by  some  to  be  just 
feo-lun — destitute  of  property  !  § 

An  interesting  passage  from  King  Alfred  will  give 
us  the  original  form  of  some  significant  words : 

"  This  like,  0  King,  (cyning)  does  this  present  life  of  man  on 
earth  appear  to  me,  compared  with  the  time  that  is  unknown 


*  History  of  the  Anglo-Saxons,  voL  H.  p.  132. 

t  The  Scotch  atill  retain  the  verb  "  to  ware  " — that  is,  to  expend. 

J  Compare  with  this  the  Scotch  wyte,  blame. 

§  But  besides  having  the  ware  and  wite  to  pay,  there  was  also 
a  fine  imposed  for  the  infliction  of  any  personal,  injury,  and  a 
curious  system  of  anatomical  economy  arose.  The  loss  of  an 
eye  or  leg,  for  instance,  was  esteemed  to  be  worth  50  shillings ; 
for  "  breaking  the  mouth "  a  penalty  of  12  shillings  was 
imposed ;  for  cutting  off  the  little  finger  11  sh. ;  for  piercing  the 
nose  9  sh. ;  for  cutting  off  the  thumb-nail,  for  the  first  double 
tooth,  or  for  breaking  a  rib,  each  3  sh. ;  for  any  nail  and  for  any 
tooth  beyond  the  first  double  tooth  1  shilling ! 


Fossil  Histories.  81 

(uncutJi  *)  to  us :  just  like  as  thou  sittest  at  feast,  among  thy 
aldermen  and  thanes,  (mid  thinum  ealdormannum  and  thegnum) 
in  winter  time ;  and  thy  fire  burns  and  thy  hall  is  warmed. 
And  while  it  rains  and  snows  and  stirs  without  (and  hit  rene  and 
snewe  and  styrine  ute),  there  comes  a  sparrow  (spearwa),  and 
quickly  it  flies  through  the  house  (hus  t) — coming  in  at  one  door 
and  going  out  at  the  other.  Whilst  it  is  amongst  us,  it  feels  not 
the  wintry  tempest.  It  enjoys  the  short  comfort  and  serenity 
of  its  transient  stay  ;  but  then,  plunging  into  the  winter  from 
which  it  had  flown,  (he  roma  of  wintra  in  winter  eft  cymeiu) 
it  disappears  from  our  eyes.  Such  is  the  life  of  man,"  J  etc. 

'  KING-  '  is,  we  perceive,  primarily  cyning  (or  kyning : 
cyning,  cynig,  cyng=~K.yng  i.  e.  King\  coincident  with 
the  Grerman  Konig,  that  is,  the  can-ning,  the  able,  the 
powerful  man  :  in  regard  to  which  hear  what  Yerste- 
gan  tells  us:  "And  certaine  it  is  that  the  kings  of 
monster  nations  were  in  the  beginning  elected  and 
chosen  by  the  people  to  raigne  over  them,  in  regard 
of  the  greatnesse  of  their  cowrage,  valour,  and 
strength,  as  beeing  therefore  best  able  to  defend  and 
governe  them." 

'  ALDERMAN  '  is  evidently  just  elderman  (ealdormari) 

*  We  still  say  '  uncouth '  i.  e.  any  thing  that  is  not  couth  or 
kenned — that  is  unknown  to  us — a  significant  word  indeed, 
t  Which  we  still  preserve  pure  in  Awsband  i.  e.  house-bund. 
t  Turner's  Hist.  Anglo-Saxons. 


82  Ramble  Fifth. 

that  is,  elder-man.  It  has  reference  to  the  early  Saxon 
society  when  the  people,  imagining  that  the  elders 
would  be  most  likely  to  possess  wisdom  and  authority 
chose  to  appoint  them  as  their  rulers.  This  notion 
of  the  sagacity  in  grey  hairs  seems  to  have  been  a 
rather  common  one.  Thus  we  have  the  Latin  Senatus 
(our  '  Senate ')  from  seneXj  an  old  man  ;  and  the  Greek 
Presbuteros — our  '  Presbyterian.'  Indeed  Homer  thus 
lays  down  the  law : 

"  For  the  minds  of  young  men  are  ever  fickle ;  but  when  a 
senior  is  present  he  looks  at  once  to  the  past  and  the  future 
(before  and  behind)  that  the  matter  may  be  best  for  both  parties." 

Iliad,  Book  III. 

"  Everich  for  the  wisdom  that  he  can 
Was  shape  lich  for  to  ben  an  alderman/' 

Canterbury  Tales. 

Chaucer  does  not  tell  us  what  this  '  shape  '  was  like ; 
but  there  would  seem  to  have  been  all  along  a  fiction 
of  it's  not  being  very  tenuous  ! 

The  very  obvious  connection  of  '  WIFE  '  with  web 
and  the  verb  weave  *  has  often  been  noticed :  as  if  it 

*  Wefan  is  the  Saxon  form  of  the  verb  :  German  weben,  whence 
4  web  ' ;  and  the  German  weib—  Sax.  wif—  Eng.  '  wife.' 


Fossil  Histories.  83 

would  insinuate  that  weaving  is  the  only  legitimate 
sphere  of  womanly  occupation.  And  really  I  doubt 
we  will  be  compelled  to  receive  the  derivation, 
especially  since  the  term  *  SPINSTER  '  appears  to  point 
in  the  same  direction.  For  it  is  impossible  to  avoid 
perceiving  that  this  word  is  formed  from  the  verb  to 
spin;  and  King  Alfred,  in  his  Will,  designates  the 
females  of  his  house  as  the  spindk-side.  * 

"  My  Grand  father  hath  bequeathed  his  Land  to  the  spear-side 
[or  spear-half]  and  not  to  the  spindle-side.  If,  therefore,  I  have 
bestowed  any  of  his  possessions  on  a  female,  my  relations  must 
redeem  it,  if  they  will,  while  she  is  li ving ;  but  if  not,  it  can  be 
dealt  with  as  we  have  before  settled." 

The  WiU  of  King  Alfred,  page  25. 

Oxford,  at  the  Clarendon  Press,  1788. 

Our  industrious  Saxon  progenitors,  therefore,  took 
it  for  granted  that  the  unmarried  women  would  be 
employed  in  spinning.  Chaucer  makes  the  "  Wif  of 
Bathe  "  thus  give  us  the  Whole  Duty  of  Woman  : 

*As  the  female  side  was  designated  by  the  spindle,  so  the 
male  was  by  the  sword  or  the  spear.  The  Q-oths,  however, 
employed  a  still  more  fantastic  distinction,  for  man  they  denoted 
by  hat  j  woman  by  hood. 


84  Ramble  Fifth. 

"  For  all  swiche  wit  yeven  us  in  our  birth ; 
Deceite,  weping,  spinning,  God  hath  yeven, 
To  woman  kindly  while  that  they  may  liven." 

The  Wif  of  Bathes  Tale. 

Whence  it  would  appear  that  there  may  be  more . 
than  we  might  be  apt  to  suppose,  in  the  character 
given  of  a  certain  Roman  Matron  : 

"  Domum  mansit — lanam  fecit " — 
so  quaintly  and  forcibly  rendered  by  Gawain  Douglas 

"  She  keepit  close  the  hous,  and  birlit  at  the  quhele!" 

•• 

And  more  of  this  wondrous  Archaeology  of  Words. 
Plagium  was  among  the  Romans  the  name  given  to 
man-stealing — "the  crime  of  knowingly  buying  or 
selling  a  freeman  as  a  slave  " — a  species  of  '  plagiary ' 
which,  it  would  seem,  by  the  way,  is  not  yet  quite 
extinct.  But,  since  this  has  become  less  appreciable, 
the  word  is  now  employed  to  designate  the  more  palpa- 
ble literary  thefts.  Richardson  cites  the  following : 

"  Plagiarie  had  not  its  nativity  with  printing ;  but  began  in 
times  when  thefts  were  difficult,  and  the  paucity  of  books  scarce 
wanted  that  invention." 

Brown 's  Vulgar  Errours. 


Fossil  Histories.  85 

The  story  which  '  EMOLUMENT  '  tells  us  furnishes  an 
additional  tint  wherewith  to  fill  up  the  picture  of 
primitive  times :  for  do  we  not  catch,  lurking  therein, 
glimpses  of  the  mola  or  mill,  far  in  the  distance,  on  the 
edge  of  old  Koman  wood  or  water  ?  And,  in  fact,  all 
that  '  emolument '  at  first  implied  was  that  tithe  of  the 
grist  which  went  to  the  miller  for  grinding  the  grain — 
truly  his  Emolumentum!  'IMMOLATE'  would  seem 
to  have  no  possible  connection  with  the  foregoing, 
and  yet  its  alliance  therewith  is  very  close :  molce 
was  the  word  used  to  denote  grits  or  grains  of  corn 
coarsely  ground ;  and,  when  mixed  with  salt,  was 
called  the  mola  salsa,  or  sacrifice-meal — which  mola 
was  sprinkled  on  the  head  of  the  victim  previous  to 
immolating  him  :  hence  its  application  to  sacrificing, 
offering  up.  The  connection  of  *  SALARY  '  with  sal, 
salt  is  also  very  obvious.  And  in  fact  the  solarium 
was  primarily  money  for  salt,  then  allowance  of  money 
for  a  journey,  and  then,  in  general,  pay,  allowance. 
It  is  said,  moreover,  that  Roman  soldiers  were  wont 
to  receive  part  of  their  pay  in  salt. 

The  connection  of  *  PECUNIARY  '  with  the  primitive 
idea  of  flocks  and  herds  (pecus)  has  already  been 
noticed.  A  fragment  from  Sartor  Resartus,  which 
sounds  forth  here  like  a  snatch  of  some  antique  idyl, 
will  put  the  matter  in  its  clearest  light : 


86  Ramble  Fifth. 

"  A  simple  invention  it  was  in  the  old-world  Grazier — sick  of 
lugging  his  slow  ox  about  the  country  till  he  got  it  bartered  for 
corn  or  oil — to  take  a  piece  of  leather,  and  thereon  scratch  or 
stamp  the  mere  Figure  of  an  Ox  (or  Pecus) ;  put  it  in  his  pocket, 
and  call  it  Pecunia,  Money.  Yet  hereby  did  Barter  grow  Sale, 
the  leather  Money  is  now  Golden  or  Paper,  and  all  miracles  have 
been  out-miracled ;  for  there  are  Rothschilds  and  English 
National  Debts ;  and  whoso  has  sixpence  is  Sovereign  (to  the 
length  of  six  pence)  over  all  men ;  commands  books  to  feed  him, 
Philosophers  to  teach  him,  King  to  mount  guard  over  him, — to 
the  length  of  sixpence  I" 

Sartor  Resartus,  p.  30. 

From  this  same  root  (pecus}  we  get  two  other 
instructive  words,  namely  '  PECULIAR  '  and  '  PECU- 
LATE.' The  immediate  origin  of  '  peculiar '  is  to  be 
sought  in  peculium — "  the  stock  or  money,  which  a  son, 
with  the  consent  of  his  father,  or  a  slave,  with  the  consent 
of  his  master,  had  of  his  own  ;  or  which  a  wife  has 
independent  of  her  husband  ;  private  property1'1 — hence, 
in  general,  any  thing  special  or  particular  to  the 
individual — taking  away  which  would,  doubtless,  be 
'peculating? 

While  on  this  subject  it  will  not  be  amiss  to  cause 
such  terms  as  'wealth,'  'chattels,'  'spoil'  etc.  to  tell 
us  their  story. 

'  Wealth'  is  evidently  that  which  wealeth  or  maketh 


Fossil  Histories.  87 

a  man  to  be  weal,  what  we  now  call  well* — which 
weal  or  well  Dryasdust  makes  out  to  mean  primarily 
strong ',  powerful.  Nor  is  this  derivation  at  all  im- 
probable, seeing  that  all  the  purposes  of  wealth  are 
originally  to  make  one  powerful,  prevalent  over  his 
enemies.  So  ' chattel'  and  'cattle'  are,  at  first  one 
word — (Norman  catal — Jcatalla) ;  but  as  the  principal 
part  of  their  'chattels' — their  'goods'  was  in  the 
shape  of  oxen,  sheep,  etc.,  it  is  perfectly  evident  how 
the  signification  would  become  absorbed  in  'cattle/ 
and  that  term  be  raised  to  typify  all  kinds  of  moveable 
property.  One  word  will  let  us  into  the  whole  secret 
of  '  SPOIL.'  For  spolium  primarily  implied  the  skin  of 
an  animal  stript  off,  and  then  extended  so  as  to  em- 
brace any  '  spoils '  whatsoever.  A  picturesque  snatch 
of  history  indeed  is  this  primitive,  self-helping  man — 
a  rude  Goetz  von  Berlichingen — tearing  from  the 
wolf  or  the  bear  his  hide  and  carrying  it  off  as  spoil. 
Virgil,  in  Romulus,  gives  us  a  vivid  picture  of  the 
character  in  his  old,  heroic  lineaments : 

"  Tnde  lupae  fulvo  nutricis  tegmine  laetus  . 
Romulus  excipiet  gentem,"  etc. 

*  '  Weal '  is  now  only  used  as  a  noun, 

"  The  weal  or  woe  in  thee  is  placed." — Milton. 
Yet  in  Scotland  they  still  use  it  as  an  adjective  (weeT). 


88  Ramble  Fifth. 

"What  a  long  and  entertaining  yarn  might  be  spun 
out  of  the  '  sardonic  laugh !'  We  should  be  compelled 
to  travel  back  even  to  the  days  of  Greece's  blind  but 
sunny  bard  whom  we  find  first  alluding  to  the  "yeXwj 
(fapSovus"  Let  old,  heroic  Chapman  recite  the  passage 
for  us : 

" Who  [Ulysses]  he  heard, 

Shrunke  quietly  aside  and  let  it  shed 
His  malice  on  the  wall.     The  suffering  man 
A  laughter  raised  most  Sardonian 
With  scorne,  and  wrath  mixt" 

Odyssey,  Book  XX. 

And  Eichardson  cites  a  passage  from  Taylor's 
Pausanias  which  sufficiently  explains  the  origin  and 
application  of  the  term : 

"  This  same  island  [Sardinia]  is  free  from  all  kinds  of  poisonous 
and  deadly  herbs,  excepting  one  herb,  which  resembles  parsely 
and  which,  they  say,  causes  those  who  eat  it  to  die  laughing. 
From  this  circumstance  Homer  first  and  others  after  him  calls 
laughing  which  conceals  some  noxious  design :  l  sardonican.'  " 

Description  of  Greece,  vol.  iii.  p.  149. 

The  piece  of  history  wrapt  up  in  '  CURFEW  '  is  very 
familiar  ;  but  it  will  bear  repetition.  The  composition 


Fossil  Histories.  89 

of  the  word  we  know  to  be  couvre  feu,  that  is  to  say, 
cover  up  your  fires.  So  that  whenever 

"The  curfew  tolled  the  knell  of  parting  day," 

(and  the  bell  rang  regularly  at  8  o'clock  every  night), 
the  good  folks  quietly  raked  up  their  fires,  put  out 
their  lights  and  retired  to  bed,  as  peaceable  people 
should  do.  The  word  reads  its  own  story.  And,  by 
the  way,  it  also  points  with  unerring  certainty  to  its 
originators.  For  we  see  that  the  word  is  Norman : 
and,  in  fact,  this  very  practice  was  established  by 
William  the  Conqueror — that  grand  innovator  of 
Saxon  manners  and  customs  and  introducer  of  French 
modes  and  morals.  On  this  word  Webster  has  the 
following  curious  passage  :  "  The  practice  of  ringing 
bells  at  nine  o'clock  continues  in  many  places,  and  is 
considered,  in  New  England,  as  a  signal  for  people  to 
retire  from  company  to  their  own  abodes  ;  and,  in  general, 
the  signal  is  obeyed  /" 

By  the  way,  fiends  and  fairies,  as  well  as  mortals, 
were  supposed  to  be  subject  to  the  same  regulation. 
Thus  Edgar  says : 

"  This  is  the  foul  fiend  Flibbertigibbet :  he  begins  at  curfew, 
and  walks  till  the  first  cock,"  etc. 

Lear,  III.  4. 


90  Ramble  Fifth. 

"KiVAL,'  is  another  word  of  well-known  origin. 
The  Latin  adjective  rivalis  is  literally  that  which  per- 
tains to  a — rivus — stream  or  rivulet ;  and  the  plural 
rivales  was  used  to  designate  those  who  had  a  brook  in 
common,  or  who  got  water  from  the  same  brook.*  But, 
it  being  soon  found  out  that  this  circumstance  was 
almost  constantly  productive  of  contentions,  the  word 
lost  this  speciality  of  application,  and  concentrated 
within  itself  the  notion  of  every  thing  that  is  Jritter  in 
animosity  or  fierce  in  contention.  And  yet  Shake- 
speare employs  the  word  in  an  altogether  friendly 
sense.  Thus  when  Bernardo  exclaims, 

"  If  you  do  meet  Horatio  and  Marcellus, 
The  rivals  of  my  watch,  bid  them  make  haste;" 

Hamkt,  I.  1. 

he  understands  and  intends  partners,  sharers — partners 
in  the  watch,  even  as  those  who*  live  on  the  same 
stream  are  sharers  in  the  water.  This  use  of  the  word 
is  now,  however,  entirely  obsolete.  Still,  we  use 
'COMPANION' — which  may  just  be  one  who  eats 

*  "  Si  inter  rivales,  id  est  qui  per  eundem  rivum  aquam  duount, 
sit  contentio  de  aquae  usu,"  etc. 

Ulpian  Leg.  I. 


Fossil  Histories.  91 

(panis)  bread  along  with,  us — in  a  wholly  amicable 
application.* 

The  most  perfect  realization  of  the  primitive  con- 
ception of  *  rivals '  is  no  doubt  the  '  Border-men ' — 
whom  the  magic  wand  of  Sir  Walter's  genius  has 
unsepulchred,  causing  them  to  spring  up,  clad  "in 
complete  steel,"  raging  in  the  fury  of  their  deadly 
feuds.  We  catch  glimpses  of  the  old  baron  issuing 
forth,  with  his  troop  of  mailed  retainers,  bent  on 
plunder,  and  returning  with  the  stolen  cattle  of  their 
neighbors — leaving  their  sign-manual  in  smoking 
houses  and  desolated  homes. 

'SIGN-MANUAL,'  did  we  say?  Even  this  may  not 
be  without  its  history.  Does  it  not  give  us  hints  of 
rude  lion-hearted  heroes,  in  those  rude  yet  romantic 
Middle 'Ages,  "whose  signature,  a  true  sign-racmwa?, 
was  the  stamp  of  their  iron  hands  duly  inked  and 
clapt  upon  the  parchment."* 

Lo !  rise  there  up  before  the  mind's  eye  the  '  CRU- 
SADES ' — those  enthusiastic  expeditions  against  the 
'INFIDELS'  and  the  'MISCREANTS' — sending  out  to 

*  Webster,  however,  takes  this  word  from  con  and  pannus,  a 
cloth  or  flag ;  and  makes  a  '  companion '  one  who  is  under  the 
same  standard.  He  is  probably  right. 

t  Carlyle:  "Stump  Orator." 


92  Ramble  Fifth. 

'SAUNTER'  to  the  holy  sepulchre  whole  bands  of 
'  PILGRIMS'  who  came  home  '  PALMERS.' 

In  these  few  words  lies  embalmed  the  entire  history 
of  the  movements. 

The  '  CRUSADES,'  that  is  the  croisades,  or  cross-ades — 
the  cross  being  the  banner  under  which  they  marched, 
each  '  crusader,'  moreover,  bearing  about  with  him 

"  The  dear  remembrance  of  his  dying  Lord." 

The  Holy-land,  we  know,  was  the  place  whither  the 
'  PILGRIMS  '  (the  pelerins — peregrini,  i.e.  the  wanderers) 
were  wont  to  wend  their  steps ;  which  knowing,  we 
can  readily  conceive  how  the  pilgrimage  might  very 
soon  degenerate  into  a  mere  '  SAUNTERING  ' — and  the 
1  PALMERS,'  returning  with  their  branches  of  palm,  use 
this  symbol  only  as  a  sanction  for  mendicity. 

"  I  am  a  palmer,  as  ye  se, 
Which  of  my  lyfe  much  part  have  spent, 
In  many  a  fay  re  and  farre  countrie." 

Old  Play  (Quoted  by  Nares). 

And  more  of  the  Middle  Ages !  Our  notions  of 
Chivalry  are  mainly  derived  from  the  sportive  phan- 
tasy of  glorious  old  Cervantes'  '  Don  Quixote ;'  but 
it  must  not  be  imagined  that  Miguel  was  the  first 
satirist  of  Chivalry.  Nay,  our  own  Dan  Chaucer, 


Fossil  Histories.  93 

two  hundred  years  before  his  day,  has  presented  us 
with  the  prototype  of  '  Don  Quixote'  in  his  Rime  of 
Sire  Thopas — a  stanza  of  which  may  not  be  unappro- 
priate  here : 

"  Men  speken  of  romaunces  of  pris, 
Of  Hornchild,  and  of  Ipotis, 
Of  Bevis  and  Sire  Guy, 
Of  Sire  Libeux,  of  Pleindamour, 
But  Sire  Thopas,  he  bereth  the  flour 
Of  real  cJievalrie." 

1  CHIVALKY  '  (or  chevalry,  as  Chaucer  more  correctly 
writes  it),  we,  of  course,  perceive  to  be  from  chevalier 
which  is  just  a  cheval-ier — a  /Wse-man,  from  the  fact 
of  the  knights-errant  riding  on  horseback.* 

"  Straw  for  Senek  and  straw  for  thy  proverbs; 
I  counte  not  a  panier  ful  of  herbes 

Of  Scole  terms." 

The  Merchants  Tale. 

This  contempt  on  the  part  of  Chaucer  is  doubtless 
justifiable  enough,  especially  since  he 

*  As  for  '  KNIGHT,'  it  is  the  Saxon  cniht,  a  boy,  or  servant — 
and  subsequently  used  to  designate  a  youth  after  his  admission 
to  the  privilege  of  bearing  arms.  And  as  this  privilege  was  only 
conferred  on  persons  of  fortune  or  valor  or  favor,  it  acquired  and 
retained  its  honorable  application. 


94  Ramble  Fifth. 

11  Slept  never  on  the  Mount  of  Parnasso, 
Ne  lerned  Marcus  Tullius  Cicero." 

I  quote  the  passage,  however,  merely  to  note  the 
old  spelling  of  '  SCHOOL  ' — Scole — a  form  which  ap- 
proaches nearer  to  the  original  word  and  gives  us  a 
glimpse  thereinto.  Schole  is  the  etymon  and  signifies 
primitively  leisure — the  *  otium  cum  dignitate '  so 
essential  to  permit  of  { scholastic '  pursuits.  The 
following  passage,  cited  by  Eichardson,  well  illus- 
trates the  original  meaning  of  the  word : 

"  For  hee  pictured  the  noble  ladie  Hesione,  K.  Alexander  the 
Great,  and  Philip  the  King  his  father,  with  the  goddesse 
Minerva;  which  tables  hang  in  the  Philosopher's  Schools,  or 
walking  place,  within  the  stately  galleries  of  Octavia,  where  the 
learned  clerks  and  gentlemen  favourers  of  learning,  were  wont  to 
meet  and  converse"  Holland- s  Plmie. 

The  archaic  use  of  '  CLERK,'  in  the  above  passage, 
suggests  a  remark  in  regard  to  the  history  of  it,  also. 

This  word  has,  in  its  transition  from  its  original  to 
the  present  application  suffered  divers  changes  in 
signification.  Thus  the  word  is  at  first  one  with 
clergy — (Latin  clericus,  Greek  clericos — cleros)* — and 

*  Literally  chosen  by  lot — the  application  of  which  is  said  by 
some  to  have  originated  in  the  choosing  of  Mathias  recorded  in 
the  Acts  of  the  Apostles. 


Fossil  Histories.  95 

then,  since  the  clergy  were  supposed  to  absorb  all  the 
learning  of  the  times — and  what  could  be  a  more 
conclusive  evidence  of  this  fact  than  that  we  find 
'clergie'  meaning  literature? — it  came  to  signify  a 
man  of  letters — "  Every  one  that  could  read  being," 
as  Blackstone  informs  us,  "  accounted  a  *  clerk.' " 
"We  next  find  it  approximating  still  closer  to  its 
present  usage — being  employed  in  the  sense  of  a 
writer  in  an  office :  and  then,  by  an  easy  gradation, 
a  shopman,  a  "  clerk." 

We  all  recognize  in  '  FARCE  '  a  stuffing  of  irrele- 
vances and  ludicrous  conceits ;  but  we  will  realize 
this  all  the  more  forcibly  by  noting  that  it  actually 
does  mean  something  stuffed — the  verb  to  '  farce ' 
being  formerly  used  in  precisely  that  signification,  as 
a  passage  from  Sir  T.  More  will  well  exemplify: 
wherein  he  says  with  his  usual  causticity : 

"  Which  was  farforth  farsed,  stuffed  and  swole  we  venemous 
heresies." 

'JEOPARDY,'  again,  is  a  word  that  smacks  of  the 
gaming  table — the  composition  being  in  all  proba- 
bility that  suggested  by  Tyrwhitt,  namely,  jeu  parti 
— an  even  game,  that  is,  one  in  which  the  chances  are 
equal,  so  that  there  is  a  chance,  and  a  danger,  of  its 
falling  on  either  side — the  whole  being  very  jeopar- 


96  Ramble  Fifth. 

dons  !  And  this  derivation  wears  a  still  more  decided 
air  of  probability  when  viewed  in  connection  with 
such  passages  as  the  following : 

"  And  when  he,  thurgh  his  madnesse  and  folie 
Hath  lost  his  owen  good  thurgh  ju  partie, 
Then  he  exciteth  other  folk  thereto, 
To  lose  his  goodes  as  he  himself  hath  do." 

Chanter. 

Or  in  the  following  from  Froissart : 

"Si  nous  les  voyons  a  jeu partie" — If  we  see  them  at  even 

game,  etc. 

Chronicles,  Yol  I.  p.  234. 

And  more  of  the  Archaeology  of  Words ! 

"  The  Host  looked  stedfastly  at  Adams,  and  after  a  moment's 
silence  asked  him,  '  if  he  was  not  one  of  the  writers  of  the 
Gazetteers,  for  I  have  hear,'  says  he,  '  they  are  writ  by  parsons.' 
'  Gazetteers !'  answered  Adams,  '  What's  that?'  " 

Fielding's  Joseph  Andrews. 

Any  school  boy  could  now  answer  the  good  Par- 
son's interrogatory ;  and  tell  him,  moreover,  that  the 
1  GAZETTE  '  first  took  its  name  from  a  Venetian  coin 
called  a  gazet  or  gazetta — and  which  is  said  to  have 
been  the  price  charged  for  the  first  newspaper.  But 


Fossil  Histories.  97 

even  .in  England  this  word  was  used  as  a  designation 
for  a  small  coin.     Thus, 

"  Since  you  have  said  the  word  I  am  content, 
But  will  not  go  a  gazet  less." 

Massinger's  Maid  of  Honour,  III.  1. 

A  curious  piece  of  history  is  contained  in  our 
application  of  the  word  '  INOCULATION.'  The  appli- 
cation, I  say ;  for  originally  the  verb  to  '  inoculate ' 
merely  signified  to  ingraft — literally,  to  insert— ocula — 
eyes  i.  e.  buds  or  grafts,  in  a  tree.  And  in  this  sense 
solely  was  it  employed,  until  the  rise  of  a  new  practice 
(and  the  necessity  of  a  designation  therefor)  drew  the 
word  away  from  its  primary  usage,  and  gave  it  an 
application  altogether  novel.  Here  is  a  snatch  of  old 
rhyme-rubbish  anent  the  subject : 

"  If  I  had  twenty  children  of  my  own, 

I  would  inoculate  them  every  one. 

Ay,  but  should  any  of  them  die !  what  moan 

Would  then  be  made  for  venturing  thereupon. 

No ;  I  should  think  that  I  had  done  the  best, 

And  be  resigned  whatever  should  befall. 

But  could  you  really  be  so,  quite  at  rest  ? 

I  could.     Then  why  inoculate  at  all  ? 
Byrom  on  Inoculation.    (Written  when  first  practised). 

Sometimes,  again,  there  remain  to  us  embers  and 
5 


98  Ramble  Fifth. 

ashes  from  some  mighty  social  or  political  volcano,  or 
revolution  (which  is  also  a  turning  of  things  upside 
down — revolvo,  volutum).  Instance  *  SEPTEMBRIST  ' — 
a  name  given  to  those  engaged  in  the  Paris  massacre 
of  September  '92.  This  same  French  Revolution  has, 
moreover,  left  us  *  SANSCULOTTES  ' — a  term  of  reproach 
applied  to  the  ultra  Republicans — that  is,  fellows  so 
wretched  as  to  be  even  destitute  of  breeches!  The 
1  CHARTIST,'  too,  clearly  lets  us  know  that  he  goes  in 
for  his  charta,  or  charter :  and  it  is  perfectly  evident 
that  the  'RADICAL'  believes  in  going  down  to  the 
very  root — radix — of  the  matter  and  upturning 
therefrom. 

How  perfectly  faithful  is  the  history  '  MOB  '  gives 
us  of  itself.  We,  of  course,  instantly  perceive  it  to 
be  a  shortened  form  of  mobile — the  variable,  fickle, 
mobile  crowd  that  is  swayed  about  by  any  wind  of 
caprice.  This  derivation  receives  an  additional 
certificate  when  we  learn  that  it  was  formerly  written 
mobile,  in  full,  as  a  trisyllable.  Thus  in  the  "  Song  of 
an  Orange,"  among  the  State  Poems,  *  we  have  the 
following : 

"  Tho'  the  mobile  haul 
Like  the  Devil  and  all, 
For  religion,  property,  justice  and  laws." 

*  YoL  HI.  287.  In  Nares'  Glossary. 


Fossil  Histories.  99 

And  in  the  days  of  Addison  it  was  written  as  a 
contract,  that  is,  with  a  dot  after  it.  But  let  him 
speak  for  himself*:  "It  is  perhaps  this  humour  of 
speaking  no  more  words  than  we  needs  must,  which 
has  so  miserably  curtailed  some  of  our  words,  that 
in  familiar  writings  and  conversation  they  often  lose 
all  but  their  first  syllables,  as  in  mob.,  red.,  pos.,  incog., 
and  the  like ;  and  as  all  ridiculous  words  make  their 
first  entry  into  a  language  by  familiar  phrases,  I  dare 
not  ansiver  for  these  that  they  will  not  in  time  be  looked 
upon  as  apart  of  our  tongue  /" 

Two  old  Grecian  words  read  us  an  instructive 
history.  'HYPOCRITE'  and  'SYCOPHANT'  namely. 
Let  us  lay  open  these  words  and  see  what  treasures 
they  will  display.  '  HYPOCRITE  '  is  written  Hypocrites 
in  Greek,  and  in  its  usual  application  implied  a  stage- 
player^  an  actor  f — hence  one  who  feigns  a  part,  hence 
a  dissembler,  a  'hypocrite.'  But  this  application  of 
the  word  is  placed  in  a  much  clearer  light  when  we 
consider  for  a  moment  certain  peculiarities  of  the 
Grecian  stage.  From  the  immense  extent  of  the 
ancient  theatres  it  was  necessary,  in  order  to  avoid  a 
ludicrous  disproportion,  to  make  the  players — the 

*  Spectator. 

t  Our  verb  to  '  act  is  often  used  in  the  sense  of  feigning,  pre- 
tending. 


ioo  Ramble  Fifth. 

hypocrites — by  artificial  means,  of  a  supernatural  size. 
And  as  their  roles  belonged  chiefly  to  an  antique  and 
heroic  age — 'mid  an  atmosphere  of  stillness  and 
repose — they  were  the  more  readily  able  to  effect  this. 
Thus  they  increased  by  a  hidden  trumpet,  the  power 
and  volume  of  their  voices — and  they  were  generally 
masked:  so  that  they  were  in  a  double  and  still  more 
comprehensive  and  comprehensible  sense,  feigners; 
and  our  acceptation  of  *  HYPOCRITE  '  acquires  from 
the  genesis  of  the  word  increased  point  and  pun- 
gency. 

Of  { SYCOPHANT '  the  history  is  exceedingly  curious. 
In  Greece  a  Sycophantes — sycophant — meant  &  fig-shower 
— that  is  one  who  gave  information  of  persons  exporting 
figs  from  Attica,  or  plundering  sacred  fig-trees ;  and 
as  such  offices  always  carry  something  opprobrious 
with  them  and  are  eminently  exposed  to  abuse,  it  soon 
acquired  the  signification  of  a  common  informer,  a 
false  accuser,  a  slanderer,  a  mean  parasite.  And  even 
'  PARASITE  '  which  I  see  I  have  just  chanced  to  use 
flashes  across  the  mind  an  interesting  piece  of  history. 
The  composition  of  the  term  would  indicate  that  it 
meant  originally  one  who  took  his  corn  (sitos)  idtli 
another — and  so  lived  at  the  other's  expense.  But  as 
this  privilege  was,  among  such  characters,  generally 
paid  for  by  obsequious  flattery  and  buffoonery,  it 


Fossil  Histories.  101 

readily  acquired  the  odious  signification  in  which  we 
now  employ  it. 

Often,  too,  dwells  there  in  some  quaint  old  word  a 
fund  of  legendary  lore,  at  which  the  imagination  takes 
flight,  bearing  us  back  to  the  fairy  scenes  of  old  by- 
gone days.  '  FOXGLOVE,'  for  example,  which  is  just 
the  fottfs  glove  that  is,  the  good  foWs  glove — the 
1  GOOD  PEOPLE  '  being  the  affectionate  name  by  which 
the  fairies  were  known  to  our  simple-minded  ances- 
tors, and  by  which  they  are  still  designated  by  the 
Irish  peasantry.  We  meet  with  the  same  idea  in  the 
Welsh  maneg  ellyllon — which  is  also  the  fairies'  glove. 

"  Delightedly  dwells  he  'mong  fays  and  talismans, 
And  spirits!" 

1  WITCH  '  and  '  WIZARD,'  too,  let  us  into  the  weird 
phantasies  of  a  superstitious  people.  For  both  of 
these  words  are  from  the  Saxon  verb  to  knoiv — wissen 
— simply  signifying,  therefore,  a  wise  person — that  is, 
one  whom  they  esteemed  to  be  supernaturally  wise. 

'  EOSICRUCIAN  '  is  a  word  that  smells  of  the 
Alchemical  alembic.  The  composition  is  ros,  dew, 
and  crux  (crucis),  the  cross.  Now  the  Rosicrucians — - 
those  Hermetical  philosophers  who  appeared  in  Ger- 
many in  the  Seventeenth  Century — affected  a  know- 


102  Ramble  Fifth. 

ledge  of  the  Philosopher's  Stone  and  other  chemical 
arcana :  so  that  the  name  is  peculiarly  applicable  to 
them — dew  being  according  to  their  notions  the  most 
powerful  solvent  of  gold,  and  the  cross  being  the 
emblem  of  light.  Cabalistic  enough ! 

Poor  Luna,  too,  has  had  to  suffer  her  own  share  of 
odium.  Not  to  mention  the  thousand  fantastic  tricks 
formerly  ascribed  to  her — such  as  her  disobliging 
dealings  with  meats  and  men — with  what  infinite 
contempt  do  we  talk  about  '  MOONSHINE  ;'  and  it  is  to 
be  feared  that  not  even  advancing  civilization  will 
wholly  rid  us  of  belief  in  all  moony  influences,  since 
we  have  the  superstition  firmly  rooted  in  the  very 
groundwork  of  our  language.  Witness  'LUNATIC;' 
also  the  alchemical  '  MENSTRUUM  '  (mensis — a  month) ; 
and,  by  the  way,  (  MONTH  '  itself  is  just  the  time  in 
which  it  moon-Q\h* 

How  often  do  we  speak  of  our  '  COMRADES,'  and 
yet  how  seldom  do  we  think  of  the  allusion  we  con- 
tinually make  in  doing  so.  The  French  form  of  tins 
word  is  camarade;  Portuguese  and  Spanish  camarada; 
Italian  camerata.  Now  this  close  analogy  is  clearly 

*  The  steps  are  just  these :  mooneth — moneth — month.    Chau- 
cer will  furnish  examples  of  the  middle  step.     Thus 
"  This  monethes  two." 

Canterbury  Tales. 


Fossil  Histories.  103 

significant  of  the  common  origin  of  these  words ;  and 
in  fact,  we  do  indeed  find  that  the  root  of  them  all  is 
the  Latin  camera,  a  chamber :  a  '  comrade '  is  there- 
fore, originally,  just  a  chamber-fellow.  It  seems  strange 
why  the  English  should  have  corrupted  this  word, 
while  in  all  the  cognate  languages  it  remains  pure. 
And,  indeed,  we  find  that  formerly  the  word  was  not 
*  comrade,'  but  camarade.  In  Evelyn,  for  instance,  I 
find  the  following : 

"  These  are  the  particular  idioms  and  graceful  confidences 
now  in  use ;  introduced,  I  conceive,  at  first  by  some  camerades 
one  with  another ;  but  is  mean  and  rude." 

Character  of  England. 

This,  indeed,  is  one  of  the  most  important  functions 
of  words :  that  they  report  and  describe  themselves, 
and  in  their  simple  composition,  ofttimes  tell  us  more 
than  do  the  Encyclopaedias.  Words  thus  become  a 
complete  catalogue  raisonnee  of  all  thoughts  and  things ; 
and  while  they  are  crystalized  poetries  and  philoso- 
phies, they  are  at  the  same  time  important  scientific 
organs  and  instruments. 

The  'RUBY,'  for  instance,  says  plainly  that  it  is 
red — ruber  •  and  so  c  EUBKIC '  tells  of  the  red  paint  with 
which  titles  of  laws  were  first  painted.  The  '  NEGRO  ' 
carries  black  on  the  very  face  of  him,  '  AUBURN  '  is 


104  Ramble  Fifth. 

quite  literally  sun-burned  (brennari),  while  an  *  ALBUM  ' 
is  quite  as  plainly  a  white  tablet.  A  *  RESTORATEUR  ' 
offers  to  restore,  or  refresh  us ;  while  an  '  OMNIBUS  ' 
invitingly  affirms  that  it  is  to  or  for  all;  and  a  '  PORT- 
MANTEAU '  jogs  our  memory  in  regard  to  its  ability 
to  carry  our  mantle  for  us!  Then,  again,  'PURGA- 
TORY '  informs  us  that  it  is  the  place  where  we  may 
purge  out  our  trespasses ;  while  *  ROSARY  '  proffers  to 
conduct  us  through  a  very  bed  of  roses  (rosarium). 

TAPER,'  again,  claims  an  intimate  kinship  with  the 
old  Egyptian  papyrus  ;  a  '  MANGER '  truly  tells  us  that 
it  is  that  whereout  cattle  may  manger — eat ;  '  LIEU- 
TENANT' avers  that  he  is  merely  one  who  holds  the 
place,  who  stands  in  lieu,  of  his  superior;  and  a 
'CRAVEN'  basely  confesses  that  he  has  craved  or 
craven  his  life  at  his  enemy's  hand.  'JAUNDICE' 
truthfully  affirms  that  it  turns  its  victim  yellow — 
jaune ;  and  we  cannot  mention  'ELECTRICITY'  with- 
out being  reminded  of  electron  or  amber — a  substance 
which  so  plentifully  secretes  the  fluid.  '  AFFABLE  '  en- 
couragingly assures  us  that  it  may  readily  be  spoken  to 
(affabilis) ;  as  for  '  INFANT,'  if  it  could  speak,  it  would 
tell  us  that  (etymologically)  it  cannot  speak  (in-fans). 

'  RECIPE  '  simply  says,  '  do  thou  take  '  (so  and  so) ; 
'  RENDEZ-VOUS  '  says,  '  betake  yourselves '  (to  such  and 
such  a  place;  and  this  place  is  the  ' rendez-vous ') ; 


Fossil  Histories.  105 

and  the  waiter  when,  he  calls,  'Anon,  sir,'  means  to 
say,  *  In  one  (minute),  sir.'  So  *  BISCUIT'  tells  us  that 
it  is  originally  an  article  which  is  bis-cuit,  bis-coctus — 
twice- cooked  ;  'SURLOIN'  just  informs  us  that  it  is  sur 
(le)  loigne — above  the  loin,  although  a  fantastic  ety- 
mology would  give  it  the  honor  of  knighthood  and 
make  it  Sir  Loin  !  A  '  MINISTER  '  offers  to  minister  to, 
or  serve  us ;  a  '  TUTOR  '  offers  to  look  after  us  (tueor) 
and  a  (  PRISON  '  offers  to  take  or  hold  one  (prendre, 
pris).  '  SHABBY  '  affirms  that  it  is  at  present  desha- 
bille ;  while  *  DANDELION  '  seems  to  claim  some  strange 
alliance  with  a  lion's  tooth — dent  de  lion,  and  a  *  PRI- 
VILEGE '  avers  that  it  has  its  own  privy,  or  private 
law  (lex — legis).  Again,  an  'AUTHOR,'  if  verily  such,  v 
ought  to  be  in  every  sense  an  auctor  ;*  that  is,  not 
merely  one  who  produces  something,  but — qui  auctat 
— who  positively  increases  our  stock  of  knowledge  and 
happiness.  Tried  by  this  standard  of  etymology,  how 
many  of  "the  mob  of  gentlemen  who  write  with 
ease,"  will  be  found  wanting! 

'  SHROVE-TIDE  '  we  cannot  help  perceiving  to  be  the 
time  when  people  were  shrived,  or  shriven ;  so  '  DE- 
BONAIRE'  is  just  as  evidently  de.  bon  air — a  word 
which  has  unhappily  fallen  into  disuse,  for  it  is  both 

*  It  was  formerly  so  written.  I  have  seen  it  thus  as  late 
as  1557. 


106  Ramble  Fifth. 

beautiful  and  expressive  enough  to  have  been  retained. 

So  'CORONER'  and so  on  through  ten  thousand 

other  cases.     But  enough,  enough  ! 

The  historical  significance  of  Words  springs  from  the 
fact  of  their  being  born  of  spontaneity.  Words  thus 
formed  unwittingly,  and  on  which  the  national  mind, 
making  and  moulding,  has  wrought,  must  be  the  very 
expression  of  the  national  life.  They  are  the  sanctuary 
of  the  intuitions.  Here  we  should  find  a  people  daguer- 
reotyped  in  the  very  lineaments  of  life.*  Nay  even 
our  common,  every-day  words  and  phrases  will  many 
a  time  furnish  keen  hints  of  ethnic  peculiarities.  Thus 
what  is  '  on  the  carpet '  (sur  le  tapis)  to  the  Frenchman, 
for  the  Englishman  gets  '  on  the  anvil ;'  nor  are  the 
'ESPRIT'  and  'CAUSERIES'  of  the  one  any  more  cha- 
racteristic than  the  'SPLEEN'  and  'HUMOR'  of  the 
other;  and  yet  the  Englishman  possesses  a  'HOME,' 
while  the  Frenchman  has  only  a  '  CHEZ  NOUS  '  (at  our 
place).  And  so  ,the  Parisian's  joli  (pretty),  to  the 
Cockney — who  is  apt  to  cluster  most  of  his  ideas  of  a 
' pretty  fellow '  around  mirth  and  enjoyment — becomes 

*  "  II  est  certain  que  la  langue  d'un  peuple  contient,  s'il  m'est 
permis  de  m'exprimer  de  la  sorte,  les  veritables  dimensions  de 
son  esprit.  H  est  la  mesure  de  1'etendue  de  sa  logique  et  de  ses 
connaissances." — M.  le  President  de  Brasses.  Traite  de  la  Forma- 
tion Mechanique  de  Langues,  etc.  Tome  I.  74. 


Fossil  Histories.  107 

quite  '  JOLLY.'  And  this  disposition  leaks  out  through 
his  very  amusements,  so  that  even  with  his  '  cards ' 
in  his  hand,  he  will  brawl  and  babble  of  *  clubs '  and 
'spades'  (pique  et  trefle).  There  is  said  to  be  no 
equivalent  for  the  Italian  '  CONCETTI  ;'  while  nothing 
could  prove  more  mournfully  the  degeneracy  of  that 
once  heroic  people  than  the  fact  that  a  villain  or  an 
assassin  is  to  them  a  *  BRAVO  '  (a  brave  man). 

The  coincidence  of  'TRAVEL'  and  'TKAVAIL'  rests 
on  a  piece  of  history  worth  exploring.  "Long  after 
the  Frank  had  achieved  the  conquest,  he  well  remem- 
bered the  vast  amount  of  labor  and  blood  it  had  cost 
him  to  get  over  the  immense  walls  with  which  the 
Koman  tried  to  protect  his  fortified  encampments  and 
towers.  To  scale  them,  to  get  'trans  vallum'  was 
the  most  difficult  part  of  his  military  labor ;  so  he 
soon  came,  by  analogy,  to  call  every  uncommon  effort 
a  '  TRAVAIL  '  and  what  the  Frenchman  still  ascribes 
to  the  labors  in  childbed  and  the  report  of  the  Minis- 
ter of  Finances — apparently  his  hardest  works  as 
they  are  both  called  'travail'  by  eminence, — the 
Englishman  of  the  Middle  Ages  applied  to  his  labor 
in  travelling  through  foreign  countries."* 

It  is  curious,  also,  to  note  in  connection  with  this 
that  we  always  designate  a  literary  production  as  a 
*  Prof.  De  Vere  :  Comparative  Philology. 


io8  Ramble  Fifth. 

'work' — what  the  Koman  termed  his  opus  (plural 
opera) — what  the  Italian  terms  his  opera,  only  that 
he,  dilettante-like,  applies  the  word  exclusively  to 
musical  compositions. 

In  connection  with  '  travel '  I  might  have  noticed 
that  what  was  to  the  Frenchman  merely  a  day  through, 
or  a  day's  work  (journee)  became  to  the  Englishman 
his  *  JOUKXEY  ' — the  application  of  which  it  will  not 
be  difficult  to  trace. 

I  have  spoken  of  our  forms  of  greeting  and  parting, 
as  '  GOOD-BYE,'  which  is  just  God  be  wi>  you,  'ADIEU,' 
I  commend  you  (a  dieu)  to  God,  '  FAKEWELL  '  which 
is  may  you  fare  or  go,  well.  Perhaps  there  is  to  be 
read  in  these  national  good  wishes  a  deep  enough 
lesson:  perhaps  it  is  that  that  these  spontaneous 
utterances  may  embody  the  very  spirit  of  the  people. 
Thus  the  warlike  Koman  concentrated  his  best  wishes 
in  his  'SALVE!' — which  is  just  'May  you  be  safe? 
or  into  his  '  YALE  ' — which,  also,  is  naught  other 
than  '  May  you  be  well ' — following  his  departed 
friends  even  to  the  tomb  with  his  last  sad  requiem, 

"  Vale,  vale,  in  eternum,  vale  /" 

The  gay  symmetrical  Greek  summed  up  his  '  con- 
gratulations'  in  his  l %*iptV — 'May  you  be  joyful? 
while  the  profounder  repose  of  the  Oriental  is  mani- 
fested in  his  '  SALAAM  V— peace  ! 


UFIVEESITT 


RAMBLE  SIXTH. 

WOEDS  OF  ABUSE. 

Falstqff.  Away,  you  starveling,  you  elf-skin,  you  dried  neat's 
tongue,  you  stock-fish, — 0  for  breath  to  utter  what  is  like  thee  1 
— you  tailor's  yard,  you  bow-case,  you  vile  standing  tuck : — 

Prince  Henry.  Well,  breathe  awhile,  and  then  to  it  again  ; 
and  when  thou  hast  tired  thyself  in  base  comparisons,  hear  me 

speak  but  this. 

First  Part  of  Henry  IV.  ii.  4. 

You  remember  that  the  disclosure  which  Prince 
Hal  makes  of  the  merry  prank  played  on  "lean 
Jack  "  and  his  companions  effectually  closed  the  cra- 
ter of  that  volcano  which  could  vomit  forth  naught 
save  wit  and  braggardism :  otherwise  we  might  have 
had  a  perfect  exhaustion  of  Billingsgate  from  that 
"  trunk  of  humors,  that  bolting-hutch  of  beastliness, 
that  swoln  parcel  of  dropsies,  that  huge  bombard  of 
sack,  that  stuffed  cloak  bag  of  guts,  that  roasted  Man- 
ning-tree ox  with  the  pudding  in  his  belly,  that  reve- 


1 1O  Ramble  Sixth. 

rend  vice,  that  grey  iniquity,  that  father  ruffian,  that 
vanity  in  years!" 

As  it  is,  however,  we  will  find  no  lack  of  material 
wherewith  to  supply  the  hiatus.  For  here,  at  least, 
language  is  full  to  overflowing.  It  is  a  current  which 
frets  and  foams — rushing  on  dashing  and  impetuous ; 
which  o'erleaps  the  barriers  of  custom  and  conven- 
tion, and  sweeps  into  its  resistless  torrent  history  and 
metaphor  and  allusion  and  truth  and  falsehood  and 
poetry  and  passion  and  prejudice  and  fact  and  fable. 

Rousseau  conceived  language  to  be  the  natural  pro- 
duct of  the  Passions.  And  really  the  thought  re- 
ceives no  small  degree  of  warranty  when  one  marks 
the  prodigious  word-fecundity  of  Love  and  Hatred — 
how  they  have  ransacked  heaven  and  earth  for  sym- 
bols, exhausting  nature  and  piling  hyperbole  on 
hyperbole.  Take  away  from  any  speech  what  these 
have  done  for  it,  and  how  small  a  remnant  will  be 
left !  As  the  skeleton  forms  the  frame- work  on 
which  the  splendid  drapery  of  the  human  form  is 
placed,  so  the  most  highly  elaborated  speech  has  its 
roots  in  homely  and  hearty  idioms  and  instincts — 
elemental  utterances  of  human  nature. 

Among  the  most  instructive  of  this  class  of  words 
are  .the  terms  which  the  speech-forming  faculties  have 
loaded  with  burdens  of  abuse.  A  representative,  that 


Words  of  Abuse.  1 1 1 

has  grown  familiar  to  us  all,  of  this  wide-spread 
family  of  words  is  the  genus  Billingsgate.  Billings- 
gate pushes  to  enormous  proportions  a  principle  that 
is  vital  in  speech.  Billingsgate  is  the  burlesque  of 
word-building. 

The  metaphysics  of  the  Abusive  is  exceedingly 
curious.  The  very  anatomy  of  Passion  is  here  exposed. 
Here,  too,  we  may  study  elemental  human  nature — 
may  read  the  primary  thinkings  and  feelings  of  men 
in  their  first  rude  efforts  towards  expression.  There 
are  Words  that  remind  me  of  the  monster  organisms 
of  a  primitive  Geologic  world.  And  there  are  work- 
ings of  elemental  fires  visible  in  Language,  as  volcanic 
rocks  come  mounting  and  molten  through  the  rib- walls 
of  the  planet. 

What  a  subtle  Analogist  is  Passion!  It  harries 
Nature  for  emblems  and  reads  the  types  of  humanity 
in  bestial  structures  and  instincts.  Of  the  workings 
of  this  law  in  Words  we  have  already  met  with  traces. 
We  have  seen  how  that  '  rascal '  bears  the  primary 
meaning  of  a  mean  worthless  deer — how  'fanatic' 
implies  a  tempk-devotee,  and  how  '  clown '  has  its  gene- 
sis in  a  tiller  of  the  ground. 

And  more  of  these  Abusive  symbols. 

In  merrie  England  when  the  sovereign  made  his 
1  progresses'  throughout  the  kingdom,  the  train  of 


112  Ramble  Sixth. 

courtiers,  nobles,  etc.,  was  generally  followed  by  the 
attendants,  and  the  rear  brought  up  by  the  lowest 
class  of  menials — by  the  scullery-servants,  the  turn- 
spits, the  coal-carriers  and  others  of  that  ilk — rather  a 
black  guard,  we  should  say :  and,  in  fact,  they  were 
jocularly  designated  by  this  very  term — an  appella- 
tion which,  in  the  shape  of  our  'BLACKGUARD'  re- 
mains even  to  the  present  day;  though  why  those 
poor  devils  came  to  be  the  exclusive  representatives 
of  scurrility  and  meanness,  it  might  be  difficult  to 
determine — unless,  indeed,  as  we  may  well  suppose, 
they  were  by  no  means  ignorant,  and  as  little  sparing 
in  their  employment,  of  those  peculiar  elegancies  of 
diction  which  are  playfully  ascribed  to  that  classic 
region  where  they  sell  the  best  fish  and  speak  the 
best  English.  Burton,  by  the  way,  speaking  of  the 
various  ranks  and  gradations  of  devils,  alludes  to  this 
"  guard :" 

"  Though  some  of  them  are  inferior  to  those  of  their  own 
ranke,  as  the  Blacke  guard  in  a  prince's  court." 

Anatomy  of  Melancholy,  p.  42. 

From.  '  blackguard  '  we  ascend  to  the  formuling  of 
a  principle  which  we  find  exercising  quite  an  impor- 
tant influence  over  the  Abusive  Element  in  speech, 
namely,  that  particular  trades  or  professions  or  ranks 


Words  of  Abuse.  1 1 3 

in  life  which  involve  something  effeminate,  or  mean 
or  opprobrious— or  which  are  supposed  to  do  so — are 
taken  as  the  types  of  these  qualities.  Thus  that  vile 
sarcasm  on  tailors  which  wickedly  declares  them  to 
be  but  a  vulgar  fraction  of  a  man  is  of  quite  dateless 
antiquity,  while  shoemakers  are  proverbially  '  SNOBS.' 
However,  we  find  some  compensation  and  consola- 
tion in  the  fact  that  on  this  subject,  too,  the  standards 
of  judgment  vary.  In  France,  for  instance,  they  do 
not  typify  this  class  by  a  shoemaker,  but  by  a  grocer 
— an  *  epicier '  being  the  very  beau  ideal  of 'twopenny 
flash  and  beggarly  magnificence.  Another  word  that 
will  conveniently  come  under  this  same  category  is 
'FLUNKEY' — a  term  which,  in  these  latter  days  of 
flunkey-ism,  has  become  significant  of  so  much,  but 
which  primarily  imports  merely  a  livery  servant,  a 
sense  in  which  the  Scotch  still  use  it. 

Of  similar  significance  is  the  word  'KNAVE' — a 
term  which  has  sadly  lost  caste — sinking  down  from 
an  innocent  loy  or  youth  (as  the  German  for  boy  is 
still'  knabe)  to  the  very  depth  of  rascality.  The  inter- 
mediate step,  however,  throws  a  ray  of  light  on  the 
terminus  at  which  the  word  arrives.  For  this  middle 
meaning  is  that  of  a  servant — -often  enough,  we  know, 
apt  to  be  knavish*  The  course  it  has  taken  is,  there- 
*  '  Valet'  and  '  varlet '  were,  it  is  surmised,  originally  one  word. 


]  1 4  Ramble  Sixth. 

fore,  this:  Primary  meaning,  a  youth;  secondary,  a 
servant;  tertiary,  a  'knave.'  I  shall  simply  exemplify 
under  its  secondary  signification.  Thus  in  the  Duke 
of  Lauderdale's  (apocryphal?)  translation  of  the 
Bible,  the  reading  for,  "Paul,  a  servant  of  Jesus 
Christ "  is  said  to  have  been,  "  Paul,  a  knave  of  Jesus 
Christ."  And  in  the  following  quaintly-curious  pas- 
sage from  Chaucer,  we  have  the  most  unequivocal 
proof  of  this  employment : 

"  Ne  tak  no  wif,  quod  he,  for  husbandrie, 
As  for  to  spare  in  houshold  they  dispence  : 
A  trwe  servant  doth  more  diligence 
Thy  good  to  keep,  than  doth  thin  owen  wif, 
For  she  wol  claimen  half  part  al  hire  lif. 
And  if  that  thou  be  sicke,  so  God  me  save, 
Thy  veray  frendes  or  a  trwe  knave 
Wol  kepe  thee  bet  than  she  that  waiteth  ay 
After  thy  good,  and  hath  don  many  a  day." 

The  Merchantes  Tale. 

Deep,  too,  are  the  traces  in  ~W"ords  of  the  working 
of  the  spirit  of  caste.  '  VULGAR  '  properly  implies 
what  has  relation  to  the  vulgus  or  common  people,  as 
'VULGATE'  means  the  translation  of  the  Scriptures 
made  for  this  same  vulgus.  And  it  is  an  interesting 
confirmation  of  this  thwarting  of  meaning  that 
'  LEWD  '  which  carries  with  it  the  meaning  of  vile, 


Words  of  Abuse.  1 1 5 

profligate,  is '  also  from  a  Saxon  root  signifying  the 
common  people — the  lay  people.  So,  '  MEAN  '  has  an 
analogous  origin  witht  he  many — Saxon  mceneg  ;  and 
'  CHURL'  is  just  the  Saxon  for  a  man,  a  fellow — ceorl:* 
a  sense  which  the  Scotch  carle  still  retains  as  '  can  tie 
carle,'  that  is,  &  merry  fellow.  Again.  'BOOR'  is  Dutch 
for  farmer  ;  t  RUSTIC  '  is  having  relation  to  the  country  ; 
*  PAGAN  '  is  primarily  a  dweller  in  a  paganus  or  ham- 
let; *  SAY  AGE,'  or  salvage  as  the  truer  orthography 
would  write  it  (Spanish  salvage,  Italian  selvaggio),  is  a 
dweller  in  the  wfoo~ds  (sylvd)  a  backwoodsman:  and 
1  VILLAIN  '  is  primitively  the  serf  or  peasant  (yillanus) 
attached  to  the  villa  or  farm.  ISTor  does  it  originally 
bear  with  it  any  opprobrious  meaning.  Thus,  in 
Chaucer : 

"  But  firste  I  praie  you  of  your  curtesie 
That  ye  ne  asette  it  not  my  vilanie, 
Though  that  I  plainly  speke  in  this  matere, 
To  tellen  you  hir  wordes  and  hir  chere 
Ne  though  I  speek  hir  wordes  proprely." 

Prologue  to  the  Canterbury  Tales. 

'  VAGABOND,'  too,  is  well  worth  exploring,  being, 
etymologically,  merely  one  who  is  given  to  wandering 

*  Whence  Carl,  Carolus,  Charles,  etc. 


ii6  Ramble  Sixth. 

about — vagabundus — or,  as  we  also  say,  'vagrant'* — • 
and  primarily  carries  nothing  opprobrious  with  it. 
The  Prince  Gonzaga  di  Castiglione,  at  least,  intended 
to  employ  it  in  an  altogether  complimentary  manner 
when,  being  at  table  with  Dr.  Johnson  and  a  host  of 
learned  pundits,  he  called  out  to  Johnson  :  "At  your 
good  health  Mr.  Vagabond!"  imagining  that  to  be 
assuredly  an  appropriate  epithet  for  the  author  of  the 
Rambler  !  It  is  curious,  and  not  uninstructive  to  note 
in  connection  with  this,  how  the  staidness  of  our 
ancestors  has  stamped  respectability  on  every  thing 
that  is  settled;  while  it  has  cast  a  slight  on  every  thing 
that  approaches  to  roving.  Thus  Swift  uses  '  stroller ' 
as  precisely  synonymous  with  'vagabond;'  while  one 
given  to  roving  is  proverbially  a  '  ne'er-do-weel '  (a 
never-do-well)  as  the  Scotch  say.  Furthermore,  a 
'  CORSAIR  '  (French,  corsaire  ;  Italian,  corsare  ;  Spanish, 
corsario — all  from  Latin  curro — cursus,  to  run),  is  just 

*  Both  of  these  words  spring  from  one  root — vagor,  to  rove, 
to  ramble;  vagabond  being  a  corruption  of  vagabundus;  and 
'  VAGRANT  '  a  corruption,  through  the  French,  of  the  present  par- 
ticiple. The  story  that  these  words  and  their  analogues  enwrap 
is  curious  enough.  The  very  fact  of  being  a  wanderer  would 
seem  to  presuppose  some  sinister  design ;  and  express  provision 
is  made,  at  least  in  all  civilized  countries,  for  the  punishment  of 
this  very  class.  In  England,  for  instance,  the  ancient  punish- 
ment was,  I  believe,  boring  the  ear,  whipping,  etc. 


Words  of  Abuse.  117 

one  who,  with  his  vessel  runs  over,  or  scours  the  sea. 
'WANTON",'  too,  is  said  to  be  merely  one  who  is  given 
to  wandering  ;  and  there  is  a  derivation  of  '  WKETCH  ' 
— in  Saxon  wrcecca — which  would  make  it  out  to  be 
simply  one  who  is  wrecked — who  is  driven  about  and 
who  has  no  certain  dwelling-place ! 

Let  me  take  an  additional  instance  illustrative  of 
this  class  of  abusive  words.  It  shall  be  *  IDIOT  ' — a 
word  that  has  undergone  some  strange  vicissitudes 
and  forcibly  illustrates  how  in  Words  secondary 
strata  of  signification  frequently  overlap  the  primary. 
The  original  meaning  of  idiotes  is  a  private  person,  in 
contradistinction  to  one  engaged  in  public  affairs.  Its 
secondary  signification  was  one  who  had  no  professional 
knowledge  of  any  subject  ivhatever:  and  Plato  makes 
such  a  collocation  as  this,  ifowrfo  %  ISiurvis — a  poet  or 
an  .  .  .  idiot,  by  which  term  we  are  to  under- 
stand a  prose-writer.  Its  tertiary  signification,  and 
springing  naturally  out  of  its  secondary,  was  that  of 
an  ignorant,  ill-informed  man. 

Thus  far  and  no  farther,  in  Greek ;  thus  far  and  no 
farther,  in  Latin.  But  it  never  meant  an  '  idiot :'  that 
stretch  of  application  was  reserved  for  our  modern 
imaginations.  For  even  as  late  as  the  days  of  Wick- 
liff,  I  find  it  employed  in  its  legitimate  signification. 
Thus: 


Il8  Ramble  Sixth. 

"  For  if  tliou  blessist  in  spyrit,  who  mleth  the  place  of  an 
idyot  [qui  supplet  locum  idiotae]  how  schal  he  seie  amen  on  thi 
blessyng  ?" 

I.  Cor.  chap.  14. 

Here  ( idiot '  is,  we  know,  rendered,  by  subsequent 
translations,  '  he  that  occupieth  the  room  of  the  un- 
learned.' 

The  reason  of  this  unwarranted  application  ot 
'idiot'  might  be  difficult  to  determine,  unless  it  be 
that  he  who  has  not  been  able  to  get  beyond  the  con- 
dition of  a  private  person  QSturns)  and  attain  to  some 
office  or  honor,  presents  thereby  prima  facie  evidence 
of  not  having  the  wit  to  do  so  and  is,  therefore,  to  be 
regarded  as  witless  and  imbecile ! 

But  the  Abusive  faculty,  not  content  with  ransack- 
ing human  nature  for  appellations  black  and  bitter,  is 
fain  to  go  and  beg  or  borrow  from  the  lower  animals 
epithets  fitted  to  its  ends.  "  Divers  words  expressive 
of  contempt  beeing,"  as  an  old  English  Archaeologist 
has  it,  "  properly  the  names  of  some  vile  things,  and 
in  contempt  and  disgrace,  full  often,  and  with  great 
breach  of  charitie,  injuriously  applyed  unto  men  and 
women."  It  is  no  respecter  either  of  persons  or 
things.  Willing  or  unwilling,  it  presses  universal 
nature  into  its  service. 


Words  of  Abuse.  1 1  g 

*  CRONE  '  (whence  our  '  crony '),  for  instance,  is  said 
to  be  properly  the  appellation  for  a  toothless  old  ewe, 
and  then  applied,  in  passion  and  sarcasm,  to  an  old 
woman — an  old  'hag,'  which,  by  the  way,  meant 
primarily  an  enchantress  or  fury.  '  SHREW,'  also,  is 
asserted  by  Lye  to  have  been  taken  from  the  schreawa, 
or  shrew-mouse — a  little  creature  whose  spitefulness 
was  proverbial  and  whose  bite  and  venom  are  even 
said  to  have  been  fatal.*  The  variations  in  the 


*  In  regard  to  this  word  Webster  says :  "I  know  not  the 
original  sense  of  this  word  .  .  .  but  beshrew,  in  Chaucer  is 
interpreted  to  curse"  Most  assuredly  it  is  and  quite  properly, 
too  !  The  fact  is  Webster  was  lead  astray  by  Todd  (see  Todd's 
Johnson's  Diet. :  in  loco)  who  makes  the  noun  (a  shrew-mouse) 
a  derivative  from  the  verb  (to  shrew,  to  curse).  Whereas  the 
reverse  is  undoubtedly  the  case.  This  arrangement,  too,  ex- 
hibits, and  accounts  for,  the  natural  development  of  the  deriva- 
tives. Thus : 

A  '  SHREW  '  is  a  woman  possessed  with  the  contentious  spite- 
fulness  and  venom  of  a  shrew-mouse. 

To  (  SHREW  '  is  to  wish  one  to  be  struck  as  with  the  mortal 
venom  of  a  shrew-mouse,  and,  in  general,  to  curse. 

1  SHREWD  '  is  just  shrew-ed,  curst,  malicious — in  this  sense  used 
a  thousand  times  by  Shakspeare  and  his  cotemporaries ;  and 
then  softened  down  to  what  is  merely  sly,  sagacious. 

To  '  BESHREW  '  is  simply  another  (strengthened)  form  of  '  TO 
SHREW  ;'  and  hence  Chaucer's  '  interpretation '  thereof. 


120  Ramble  Sixth. 

orthography  of  'VIXEN'  will  lead  us,  by  the  nearest 
road,  up  to  its  source :  the  steps  are  as  follows : 
Yixen,  fixen  or  fixin,  fox-Qn  =  a  she-fox :  from  which 
point  of  view  our  readers  will  readily  perceive  its 
peculiar  applicability.  And  one  can  imagine  some 
old  hag,  white  and  foaming  with  rage,  endeavoring  to 
conjure  up  something  overwhelming  wherewith  to 
stigmatize  some  of  her  fellows — and  at  last  screaming 
out,  "  You  .  .  .  you  .  .  .  you  '  QUEAN  !' " 
— that  is,  you  barren  old  cow — cwean  being  the  Saxon 
designation  therefor. 

As  for  'CAT'  and  'BITCH'  and  'CUR'  and  'HORSE' 
and  '  ASS  '  and  others  such  like,  (of  which  we  have  a 
numerous  enough  tribe),  they  require  no  particulari- 
zation.  But  it  might  puzzle  one's  wits  to  say  what 
special  stigmatic  force  there  lies  in  '  MANDRAKE,'  un- 
less one  receive  all  the  wild  fables  that  cluster  around 
that  strange  plant. 

In  the  following,  for  example,  it  is  undoubtedly 
used  in  an  abusive  sense — where  Falstaff,  addressing 
his  page  says :  "If  the  prince  put  thee  into  my  service 
for  any  other  reason  than  to  set  me  off,  why  then  I 
have  no  judgment.  Thou  whoreson  mandrake,  thou 
art  fitter  to  be  worn  in  my  cap,  than  to  wait  at  my 
heels,"  etc.— Second  Part  of  Henry  IV.  I.  2. 

Here,  we  perceive,  the  applicability  hangs  on  the 


Words  of  Abuse.  121 

old  notion  of  the  mandrake's  bearing  a  certain  resem- 
blance to  the  human  figure,  especially  to  a  diminutive 
person.  On  this  quaint  fancy,  Nares  quotes  the  follow- 
ing curious  passage  from  Lyte:  "The  roote  is  great 
and  white,  not  muche  unlyke  a  radishe  roote,  divided 
into  two  or  three  partes,  and  sometimes  one  upon 
another,  almost  lyke  the  ihighes  and  legges  of  a  man." 

It  was,  moreover,  supposed  that  this  plant,  when 
torn  up  from  the  ground,  uttered  groans  so  horrible 
as  to  drive  any  one  mad  who  chanced  to  hear  it. 

By  the  way,  '  MANDKAKE  '  is  a  corruption  from 
mandregora — the  peculiar  soporific  effects  of  which 
a  familiar  passage  in  Othello  will  have  imprinted  on 
the  reader's  memory : 

" Not  poppy,  nor  mandragora, 

Nor  all  the  drowsy  syrops  of  the  world, 
Shall  ever  medecine  thee  to  that  sweet  sleep 
Which  thou  ow'dst  yesterday  !" 

Thus  we  often  times  find  embalmed,  even  in  words 
expressive  of  contempt,  quite  an  important  fact  or 
fable.  From  the  unpromising  'TAWDRY,'  for  ex- 
ample, we  evolve  quite  a  piece  of  history.  For  it  is 
asserted  to  be  a  contraction  from  St.  Audrey  (or  Saint 
Ethelrida) — a  name  commonly  applied  to  an  annual 
fair  held  on  St.  Audrey's  day,  and  at  which  all  kinds 

6 


122  Ramble  Sixth. 

of  frippery  and  trinkets  were  bought  and  sold :  but  as 
these  articles  generally  possessed  more  glitter  than 
gold  and  their  splendors  were  too  often  sadly  faded,  it 
soon  came  to  acquire  the  meaning  which  we  now 
attach  to  the  word  '  tawdry :'  <  That  was  bought  at  St. 
Audrey-fair  T  and  so  'tawdry.'  By  the  way,  the 
fair  saint  herself  is  said  to  have  been  rather  attached 
to  finery — so  much  so,  indeed,  as  to  have  died  of  a 
swelling  in  the  throat,  sent  as  a  special  visitation  on 
account  of  an  ardent  youthful  fondness  for  fine  neck- 
laces !  Many  of  my  readers  may  remember  the  very 
strange  story  which  Home  Tooke  compels  from  '  POL- 
TROON.' He  takes  it  from  pollice  truncus — one  that 
has  deprived  himself  of  his  thumb,  a  derivation  in  which 
he  is  supported  by  the  elder  Etymologists,  as.  Yossius, 
Skinner  and  Menage.  "  Multi  enim  illo  tempore,  quia 
necessitate  ad  bellum  cogebantur  prae  ignavia  sibi 
pollices  truncabant,  ne  militarent!"  Some  doubt  has 
indeed  been  cast  on  this  etymology  and  yet  here  is  a 
passage  giving  so  perfect  a  realization  of  the  primary 
idea  of  '  poltroon '  that  one  can  scarcely  resist  accept 
ing  it : 

"  In  October  1795,  one  Samuel  Caradise,  who  had  been  com- 
mitted to  the  house  of  correction  in  Kendal,  and  there  confined 
as  a  vagabond  until  put  on  board  a  King's  ship,  agreeable  to  the 
late  Act,  sent  for  his  wife  the  evening  before  his  intended  de- 


Words  of  Abuse.  1 23 

parture.  He  was  in  a  cell  and  she  spoke  to  him  through  the 
iron  door.  After  which  he  put  his  hand  underneath,  and  she 
with  a  mallet  and  chissel,  concealed  for  the  purpose,  struck  off  a 
finger  and  thumb,  to  render  him  unfit  for  his  Majesty's  service." 

And  similar  in  origin  is  '  SCOUNDREL  ' — said  to  be 
the  Italian  scondaruole,  that  is,  a  soldier  who  absconds 
or  skulks  at  muster-rofe : 

"  Gro,  if  your  ancient,  but  ignoble  blood 
Has  crept  through  scoundrels  ever  since.the  flood!" 

Pope. 

And  similar,  too,  are  '  DASTARD,'  'COWARD,'  and 
'CRAVEN.'  A  'CRAVEN'  is  one  who  has  craved  or 
craven  his  life  at  his  enemy's  hands.  *  DASTARD,'  is 
from  the  Saxon  verb  Dastrigan,  to  be  scared,  fright- 
ened. And  '  COWARD  '  is  from  a  verb  that  is  now 
obsolete  in  English,  though  it  is  still  a  living  vocable 
in  the  Scotch  idiom — to  cower,  to  shake,  to  shiver. 
Of  its  use  I  find  such  examples  as  this : 

"  Winter  with  his  rough  winds  and  blasts  causeth  a  lusty  man 
and  woman  to  cowre  and  sit  by  the  fire." 


Or  this : 


"  And  she  was  put,  that  I  of  talke 
Ferre  fro  these  other,  up  in  a  halke ; 
There  lurked,  and  there  cowred  she." 

Romaunt  of  the  Rose, 


124  Ramble  Sixth. 

Our  slightly  contemptuous  term  'STICKLER'  has 
rather  an  unexpected  derivation.  A  citation  from 
Shakespeare  will  let  us  into  the  secret.  In  Troilm 
and  Cressida  after 

"Achilles  hath  the  mighty  Hector  slain," 
he  exclaims : 

"  The  dragon  wing  of  night  o'erspreads  the  earth, 
And  stickler  like  the  armies  separates,"  etc. 

Like  a  '  stickler,'  that  is,  like  an  arbiter.  A  *  stick- 
ler' in  a  duel  was,  therefore,  what  we  now  term  a 
1  second  ;'  and  a<s  their  duty — namely  that  of  seeing 
fair-play,  equal  advantages  etc.,  between  the  combat- 
ants— would  often  lead  them  to  chaffer  and  contend 
and  '  stickle '  in  regard  to  special  points  or  punctilios, 
we  can  readily  conceive  how  it  came  to  acquire  the 
•meaning  in  which  it  is  now  used.  The  reason  of 
their  being  called  '  sticklers '  is  said  by  Stevens  to 
have  been  from  their  carrying  white  sticks  as  emblems 
of  their  duty. 

4  HERETIC  '  gives  us  some  keen  hints  respecting  the 
causes  of  religious  intolerance  and  the  odium  iheologi- 
cum.  For  Hairetikos  (Greek  haireo,  to  take  or  choose 
for  oneself)  originally  implies  simply  one  who  chooses 
an  opinion  for  himself,  without  any  reference  to  the 


Words  of  Abuse.  125 

truth  or  falsity  of  that  opinion.  But  as  bigotry  never 
can  endure  that  any  man  choose  a  belief  that  it  does 
not  choose  for  him.  and  is  never  half  so  much  at  home 
as  when  anathemizing  all  who  cannot  subscribe  credo 
to  its  every  dogma,  we  can  readily  conceive  how  this 
innocent  word  acquired  the  meaning  of  one  who  holds 
erroneous  and,  consequently,  lad  opinions !  Hobbes, 
in  the  following  passage  well  illustrates  this  word : 

"  The  word  heresy  is  Greek,  and  signifies  a  taking  of  anything, 
particularly  the  taking  of  an  opinion.  After  the  study  of  Phi- 
losophy began  in  Greece,  and  the  philosophers,  disagreeing 
amongst  themselves,  had  started  many  questions,  not  only  about 
things  natural,  but  also  moral  and  civil,  because  every  man  took 
what  opinion  he  pleased,  each  several  opinion  was  called  a 
heresy  /  which  signified  no  more  than  a  private  opinion,  without 
reference  to  truth  or  falsehood." 

Holibes'  Historical  Narration  concerning  Heresy.  ' 

It  should  also  be  noticed  that  '  INFIDEL  '  literally 
but  imports  one  who  is  faithless  (infidelis)  to  our  beliefs. 
In  the  wars  of  the  crusades  the  epithet  '  infidel '  was 
applied  to  the  Mohammedans,  even  -as  the  Normans 
called  them  'MISCREANTS' — mescreaunts — which  is 
also  unbelievers.  And  it  is  a  curious  fact  that  the 
Turks,  resenting,  stigmatized  the  Christians  as  f  gia- 
ours,' which,  I  am  told,  signifies  in  their  language 
infidel  or  unbeliever^  also ! 


126  Ramble  Sixth. 

We  are  all  familiar  with,  what  infinite  contempt  the 
Greeks  were  wont  to  look  down  upon  all  foreign 
nations — branding  them  universally  as  '  BARBARIANS.' 
The  word  '  barbarian '  itself,  however,  is  by  no  means 
so  easily  traced.  Gibbon  makes  it  Syrian,  while 
others  declare  it  to  be  merely  intended  as  a  general 
imitation  of  a  (to  the  Greeks)  foreign  tongue.  Thus 
we  see  how  entirely  ^relative  are  all  such  terms, 
whether  ethical  or  ethnical.  But  so  do  words  acquire 
a  factitious  value.  How  are  we  under  the  sway  of 
Words !  They  tyrannize  over  and  terrify  us — 

"  Assume  the  nod, 
Affect  the  god," 

as  though  they  really  had  some  inherent  virtue  and 
valor  of  their  own,  and  were  not  in  themselves  most 
poverty-stricken  and  impotent ! 

In  thus  converting  words  into  epithets  of  slight,  sad 
injustice  is  often  done  to  innocent  terms.  Indeed  it 
frequently  happens  that  words  that  are  now  employed 
in  a  scornful  or  opprobrious  sense,  were  once  terms 
of  honor.  Of  this  process  of  degradation  '  mp  ' 
affords  a  striking  illustration.  In  Shakespeare  '  imp ' 
constantly  means  a  son,  and,  indeed,  its  primary  signi- 
fication is  a  shoot  or  scion.  Thus 


Words  of  Abuse.  1 27 

"  Save  thy  grace,  king  Hall,  my  royall  Hall. 
The  heavens  thee  guard  and  keepe,  most  royall  impe  of  fame." 

First  Part  of  Henry  IV. 

And  Spenser  employs  it  in  addressing  the  Muses : 

"  Ye  sacred  imps  that  on  Parnasso  dwell, 
And  there  the  keeping  have  of  learnings  threasures." 

Faerie  Queene. 

'BRIGAND'  is  most  palpably  formed  with  malice 
prepense:  for  originally  it  signified  merely  one  who 
lives  on  a  brig,  or  summit — a  mountaineer.  Surely 
the  word  deserves  a  better  fate !  So  does  *  IMPOSTER  ;' 
but,  indeed,  any  species  of  putting  on  (im-posing)  is  so 
apt  to  be  an  imposition  that  there  is  no  wonder 
the  word  has  taken  this  course.  But  we  cannot  offer 
this  excuse  for  a  '  BELDAME  ' — which,  is  every  letter  a 
fine  lady  (a  belle  dame) ;  or,  at'  least  it  is  nothing 
worse  than  a  grandmother*  Chaucer  furnishes  exam- 
ples of  its  employment  in  the  first  sense,  and  Shake- 
speare in  the  last.  In  the  First  Part  of  Henry  IV.,  for 
instance,  we  find  Hotspur  speaking  as  follows : 

*  Beldame  was  the  word  for  grandmother ;  lelsire  for  grand- 
father. Note  that  a  French  lady  (dame)  sobers  down  to  an 
English  '  dame.' 


128  Ramble  Sixth. 

"  Oft  the  teeming  Earth 
Is  with  a  kind  of  colic  pinch'd  and  vex!d 
By  the  imprisoning  of  unruly  wind 
Within  her  womb ;  which,  for  enlargement  striving, 
Shakes  the  old  beldame  Earth,  and  topples  down 
Steeples  and  moss-grown  towers.     At  your  birth 
Our  grandam  Earth,  having  this  distemprature, 
In  passion  shook." 

And  why  a  house-iuife  or  huswife  (pronounced 
huzzif  and  hence  the  Scotch  *  hizzie ') — honest,  thrifty 
soul — should  degenerate  into  a  mere  *  HUSSY  '  seems 
quite  inexplicable.  There  is  surely  malice  prepense 
here;  or  else  some  sad  degeneracy  in  housewives 
themselves  !  But,  indeed,  '  NINNY  '  has,  if  possible, 
received  even  worse  usage.  It  is  certainly  so,  at  least, 
if  we  derive  it  from  the  Latin  nanus,  a  dwarf.  And 
as  for  '  NINCOMPOOP  '  he  mournfully  confesses  that  he 
is  non  compos — not  o/  a  sound  mind !  And  yet  surely 
4  CURMUDGEON  '  (coeur  mechant,  bad  heart)  has  not  so 
bad  a  heart  as  it  would  make  us  believe  ;  while  lubber, 
it  is  said,  primarily  implied  just  a  tall,  strapping 
fellow-;  '  JUNTO  '  ought  to  be  nothing  more  than  a 
body  of  men — -junctus — -joined  together ;  a  'NATURAL' 
has  been  compelled  to  bear  the  burden  of  a  fool,  and 
'SILLY  '  has  its  root  in  the  German  *  selig,'  blessed  I 

'  DOLT  '  is   descriptive  enough  :   it  is  simply  one 


Words  of  Abuse.  1 29 

who  is  dulled.  So  '  LOUT  '  which,  is  connected  with 
low,  and  '  MONSTER,'  which  is  just  a  sight.  ' KUFFIAN ' 
is  of  the  same  root  with  robber  and  a  'ROUE'  is  a 
fellow  so  bad  as  to  deserve  to  be  broken  on  the  wheel! 
A  'DRAB'  all  too  truthfully  declares  herself  to  be 
the  drabbe — the  lees,  or,  as  we  say,  the  very  dregs  of 
society  ;  while  '  SCURRILITY  '  palpably  declares  that 
it  is  only  fit  for  the  mouth  of  a  scurra,  or  buffoon.  A 
*  CHARLATAN  '  (Spanish  charlar,  to  prate)  is  quite  as 
evidently  merely  a  prating  fool,  and  all  that  he  says 
sheer  '  KUBBISH  '  (originally  something  rubbed  off, 
refuse) ;  while  a  '  PETTIFOGGER  '  has  pettiness  or  little- 
ness written  on  his  very  face.  '  CANT  '  is  a  thing  of 
which  unfortunately  we  have  no  lack ;  and  yet  the 
word  itself  is  involved  in  considerable  obscurity. 
However,  a  likely  enough  origin  for  it  is  the  Latin 
canto  (cano),  to  sing :  and  hence  that  peculiar  whining, 
sing-song  tone  common  to  jugglers,  sturdy  vagabonds 
and  other  imposters  religious  and  scientific.  From 
the  manner  it  was  afterwards  transferred  to  the  thing 
itself. 

Many  a  time,  too,  the  Abusive  reaches  out  to  fan- 
tastic lengths.  '  HAIR-BRAINED  '  is  just  hare-brained, 
a  '  SCAPE-GRACE '  is  one  who  has  escaped  merely  ]^y 
grace  or  favor,  and  'JACKANAPES'  is  jack  and  ape. 
So  we -have  'BORE,'  'BOOBY,'  'BLACKLEG,'  'BUMPKIN,' 
6* 


130  Ramble  Sixth. 

'LOOSE-FISH,'  'SMELL-FEAST,'  '  TRENCHER-FRIEND.' 
'  SCAMP  '  is  connected  with  scamper ;  l  CAITIFF  '  is  one 
who  is  taken — literally,  captive.  And  how  often  do 
we  hear  persons  stigmatized  as  '  NUMSKULLS  '  and 
' THICKSKULLS '  arid  'BLOCKHEADS' — though  why 
they  should  be  6foc&-heads,  I  know  not ;  unless  it  be 
that  the  head  of  such  an  one  may  be  supposed  to  be 
possessed  of  all  the  stolidity  and  all  the  woodenness 
of  a  block.  As  for  'RAPSCALLION,'  'SLUBBERDE- 
GULLION,'  etc.,  language  is  here  whirled  away  into 
the  realms  of  the  hopelessly  grotesque. 

Interesting,  too,  are  the  opprobrious  names  that 
have  been  applied  in  scorn,  contempt  or  hatred  to 
parties  and  sects.  The  terms  '  WHIG  '  and  '  TORY,'  for 
example,  have  both  their  origin  in  the  malignity  of 
the  opposition.  Their  derivations  are,  however,  too 
familiar  to  induce  us  to  delay  over  them.  However 
pure  the  '  PURITANS  '  may  have  been,  both  in  walk 
and  conversation,  it  did  by  no  means  save  the  name 
from  falling  into  sad  contempt ;  and  however  metho- 
dical the  '  METHODISTS  '  were,  it  did  not  prevent  the 
derision,  which  Sidney  Smith,  from  the  Edinburgh 
Review  so  plentifully  lavished  upon  them,  from 
taking  effect  in  the  scornful  associations  which,  for  so 
long  a  time,  attached  to  the  name. 

In  like  manner,  we  can  easily  conceive  how  the 


Words  of  Abuse.  131 

*  QUAKEKS  '  came  to  be  designated  by  this  appellation ; 
and  Dean  Swift,  in  a  passage  of  dubious  character,* 
which  I  shall  not  quote,  gives  us  the  origin  of  the 
party  called  'ROUNDHEADS.'  In  a  note  he  says: 
"The  fanatics,  in  the  time  of  Charles  I.  ignorantly 
applying  the  text,  '  Ye  know  that  it  is  a  shame  for 
men  to  wear  long  hair,'  cut  theirs  very  short.  It  is 
said  that  the  Queen  once  seeing  Pym,  a  celebrated 
patriot  thus  cropped,  enquired  who  that  roundhead 
man  was,  and  that  from  this  incident,  the  distinction 
became  general,  and  the  party  were  called  '  BOUND- 
HEADS.'  "  • 

Our  own  rich  and  free  political  life  is  constantly 
giving  rise  to  numberless  party-names  of  more  or  less 
interest  and  significance.  '  HUNKER  '  and  LOCO-FOCO  ' 
and 'FIRE-EATER'  and  'DOUGHFACE'  and  ' Black-ie- 
publican '  and  the  '  shells '  *  HARD  '  and  '  SOFT  '  and 
'KNOW-NOTHING'  and  'BARNBURNER'  are  samples, 
of  which  there  are  thousands,  of  this  prodigious 
political  activity.  But  as  I  find  I  shall  have  to 
devote  a  Eamble  to  the  subject  of  Names  I  shall  here 
abruptly  stop. 

'  EOGUE  '  is  an  abusive  with  a  double  sense,  being 
employed  both  in  an  offensive  and  an  amiable  applica- 
*  Tractate  on  "  The  Mechanical  Operation  of  the  Spirit." 


132  Ramble  Sixth. 

tion — as  is  also  the  case  with  'roguish:'  so  I  shall 
here  take  occasion  to  make  a  digression  on  Amiably 
Abusive  terms. 

And  how  does  Love  bend  even  the  most  refractory 
words  to  the  purposes  of  endearment.  Every  thing 
it  conquers,  and  compels  into  its  service.  Under  its 
sweet  sway  'BEAR'  becomes  an  amiable  sobriquet 
for  a  husband  ;*  nor  does  '  MOUSE  '  seem  contemptible 
— nay,  altogether  endearing,  as  in  Hamlet, 

" Pinch  wanton  on  your  cheek ;  call  you,  his  mouse" 

But  Love's  veritable  vocabulary  finds  not  its  way 
into  dictionaries — learned  academies  take  no  cogni- 
zance of  it.  The  soil  in  which  it  flourisheth  is  by  the 
hearth-stone  and  around  the  ingle-side.  And  thus  do 
the  home  and  hearth  exercise  their  own  sweet  yet 
potent  influence  over  language.  They  preserve  it 
from  corruption — moulding  it  into  their  own  beau- 
tiful forms. 

*  'Tis  said  that  since  the  publication  of  Miss  Bremer's  £  Neigh- 
bours '  (wherein,  it  will  be  remembered,  a  '  bear '  figures  in  this 
way)  thousands  of  wives  have  adopted  this  amiably  abusive 
term.  It  would,  of  course,  be  impossible  here  to  attempt  enter- 
ing on  the  subject;  the  vocabulary  of  endearment  is  a  private 
one.  I  would  merely  mention  the  French  '  BICHE,'  a  hind — which 
is  very  popular  as  an  appellation  of  this  sort. 


Words  of  Abuse.  133 

A  very  curious  and  very  fruitful  province  under 
the  dominion  of  the  Abusive  element  is  Oaths.  Of 
cursing  and  swearing — that  senseless  and  sinful  prac- 
tice— we  speak  not ;  but  of  those  more  innocent,  yet 
characteristic  exclamations  and  other  popular  and 
peculiar  idioms  and  phrases  by  which  we  often  con- 
trive to  communicate  thoughts  and  fancies  and  feelings 
which  it  would  be  impossible  otherwise  to  convey. 
Thus  I  know  of  no  equivalent  for  the  common  excla- 
mation '  The  Deuce !'  It  bears  with  it  a  burden  of 
significance  not  its  own  and  which  no  other  term  can 
fitly  represent.  By  the  way,  this  word  is  said  to  be 
the  Gallic  name  of  a  demon  or  evil  spirit.  Augustine, 
in  his  City  of  God,  mentions  the  word : 

"  Quosdam  daemones  quos  dusios  G-alli  nuncupant"* 

An  emotion  there  is,  which  only  l  whew  JJ  can  per- 
fectly symbolize :  and  so  with  a  thousand  lights  and 
shades  of  meaning,  which  only  such  interjectional 
articulations  can  fully  convey.  Indeed  we  should 
say  that  some  of  the  keenest  instruments  and  organs 
of  thought  had  not  yet  found  their  way  into  words. 
The  '  DICKENS!'  for  instance,  which  is  said  to  be  just 
the  c  deil !'  and but  'tis  needless  to  enumerate. 

*  See  Webster. 


134  Ramble  Sixth. 

I  shall  not  enter  into  the  dark  abyss  of  terms 
'  formed  by  that  disgraceful  practice  of  swearing :  it  is 
curious,  however,  to  note  the  characteristic  oaths  of 
different  nations.  Thus  the  Frenchman  swears  '  Par 
bleu'  and  by  his  'mille  tonneres  !'  while  the  German 
growls  out  his  '  Donner  und  Blitzen !'  or  '  Donner  und 
Teufel !'  as  Jean  Paul  often  has  it. 

So  we  see  that  oaths  are  not  only  national,  but 
individual.  Thus  how  famous  is  Socrates'  '  By  the 
dog !'  And  Charles'  '  Odd's  death !'  Just  as  noto- 
rious, however,  is  the  *  God's  death !'  of  good  Queen 
Bess.  Swearing,  indeed,  Elizabeth  affected  as  she  did 
many  other  manly  accomplishments.  For  if  she 
could  sing  *  ditties,' 

" In  a  summer's  bower, 

With  ravishing  division  to  her  lute ;" 

she  was  also  quite  as  able,  when  occasion  required, 
heartily  to  cuff  her  courtiers.  It  would  seem,  how- 
ever, that  ladies  once  enjoyed  a  much  larger  share  of 
this  peculiar  prerogative  than  at  present.  We  should, 
at  least,  conclude  so  from  Hotspur's  exhortation  to 
his  wife : 

"  Hotspur.  Come,  Kate,  I'll  hear  your  song,  too. 
Lady  Percy.  Not  mine,  in  good  sooth. 


Words  of  Abuse.  135 

Hotspur.  Not  yours,  in  good  sooth  !    'Heart,  you  swear  like  a 
comfit-maker's  wife !     Not  you,  in  good  sooth ;  and,  As  true  as  I 
live  ;  and,  As  God  shall  mend  me  ;  and,  As  sure  as  day  ; 
And  giv'st  such  sarcenet  surety  for  thy  oaths, 
As  if  thou  never  walk'dst  further  than  Finsbury. 
Swear  me,  Kate,  like  a  lady  (!),  as  thou  art, 
A  good  mouth-filling  oath  ;  and  leave  in  sooth} 
And  such  protests  of  pepper-gingerbread, 
To  velvet  guards  and  Sunday  citizens!" 

First  Part  of  Henry  IV.  III.  2. 

*  ZOUNDS  !'  is  a  common  enough  exclamation,  and 
is  probably  a  contraction  for  God's  wounds — a  form 
which  we  find  in  Chaucer,  who  is  overflowing  with 
quaint  asseverations  of  this  kind.  Thus  we  find, 

" I  make  a  vow  by  Goddes  digne  bones" 

The  Pardoneres  Tale. 

• '  PERDY,'  again,  is  just  a  corruption  for  par  dieu  (by 
God).  So,  *  GRAMERCY  '  returns — grand  merci — great 
thanks.  Of  this  primitive  form  Chaucer  will  afford  us 
an  example : 

"  Grand  mercy,  lord,  God  thank  it  you  (quod  she) 
That  ye  have  saved  me  my  children  dere." 

The  ClerJces  Tale. 

(  BY'R  LADY,'  that  is  by  our  lady  (the  Yirgin  Mary), 


136  •  Ramble  Sixth. 

and  *  BY'R  LAKIN  ' — that  is,  ~by  our  ladykin — a  diminu- 
tive of  the  preceding — were  once  (when  '  our  lady ' 
received  more  veneration  than  she  now  does)  very 
popular  forms  of  asseveration.  So  Snout  the  tinker, 
exclaims : 

"Syr  lakin,  a  parlous  fear!" 

Mid  Summers  Night's  Dream,  III.  1. 

Falstaff,  on  the  contrary,  is  constantly  swearing 
'  BY  THE  LORD  !'  and  declaring  (what  he  certainly 
well  merited)  'I'LL  BE  HANGED!'  Whereas  Justice 
Shallow  prefers  to  point  his  declaration  '  BY  YEA  AND 
NAY,'  or  *  BY  COCK  AND  PYE  '  (a  corruption  for  God 
and  Pye — the  latter  being  the  name  given  to  the 
Popish  book  of  church  offices — By  God  and  the 
Book !)  Another  whimsical  form  of  swearing  was 
'By  these  ten  bones!'  i.  e.  the  fingers  or  'by  these 
pickers  and  stealers'  (Hamlet).  See  Shakespeare, 
Jonson,  etc. 

"We  of  the  Saxon  brood  are  perhaps  as  abusive  in  our 
language  and  as  terrible  in  our  oaths  as  any  nation  on 
the  face  of  the  earth.  So  much  so,  that  we  can  scarcely 
tax  Caliban  with  extravagance  when  he  declares : 

"  You  taught  me  language,  and  my  profit  on't 


Words  of  Abuse.  137 

Is,  I  know  how  to  curse ;  the  red  plague  rid  ye 

For  learning  me  your  language."* 

Tempest. 

It  is  averred,  indeed,  that  the  Italians  outstrip  us 
in  this  matter,  as  in  many  other  arts — worthy  and  un- 
worthy ;  but  this  is  to  be  regarded  as  dubious  ! 

We  have  seen  how  Shakespeare  wields  this  class  of 
words — conjuring  up  the  most  fantastic  or  ludicrous 
or  scurrilous  combinations — piling  term  on  term  and 
capping  the  climax  of  the  ridiculous  or  the  abusive. 
Like  a  Titan,  he  laughs  and  sports  amid  the  spoils  of 
language — playing  with  and  tossing  about  words — or 
rattling  them  like  a  tempest  of  hail  stones  about  the 
ears  of  some  luckless  wight. 

"  Ha,  thou  mountain-foreigner  !    Sir  John,  and  master  mine, 
I  combat  challenge  of  this  latten  bilbo  ; 
Word  of  denial,  froth  and  scum,  thou  liest." 

Merry  Wives  of  Windsor,  I.  1. 

"  Out  of  my  doors,  you  witch,  you  hag,  you  baggage,  you  pole- 
cat, you  ronyon" 

Ibid,  IV.  2. 

*  Caliban  imprecates  the  '  red  plague.'  The  names  of  fright- 
ful diseases  are  often  used  as  imprecations.  Thus,  the  old  '  Pox 
on  you!'  was,  previous  to  the  introduction  of  vaccination,  a 
fearful  curse.  Thank  vaccination,  then,  for  removing  both  the 
thing  and  the  word  1 

So  with  a  '  murrain !'  etc.,  etc. 


138  Ramble  Sixth. 

"  G-et  you  gone,  you  dwarf; 
You  minimus,  of  hindering  "knot-grass  made  ; 
You  bead,  you  acorn." 

Mid-Summer  Nights1  Dream,  III.  2. 

"  Falstaff.  Strike ;  down  with  them ;  cut  the  villains'  throats ; 
oh !  whoreson  caterpillars  !  bacon-fed  knaves  !  they  hate  us  youth ; 
down  with  them ;  fleece  them. 

Hang  ye  gorbeUied  knaves  ;  are  ye  undone  ?  !N"o,  ye  fat  chuffs  ; 
I  would  your  store  were  here!  On,  bacons,  on!  What,  ye 
Tcnaves,  etc." 

First  Part  of  Henry  IV.  II.  2. 

However,  Falstaff  many  a  time  gets  paid  back  in 
his  own  coin : 

"You  will,  chops? 

Farewell,  thou  latter-spring!    Farewell,  aU-haEown  summer! 

Peace,  ye  fat-kidney  'd  rascal  /    .    .     .    Peace,  ye  fat  guts  I 

Call  in  ribs,  call  in  tallow. 

Here  comes  lean  Jack,  here  comes  bare-bone  /" 

And  so  we  leave  off,  even  as  we  began : 

"  Why,  thou  clay-brained  guts;  thou  knotty-pated  fool ;  thou 
whoreson,  obscene,  greasy,  tallow-keech !" 


RAMBLE  SEVENTH. 

FANCIES  AND  FANTASTICS. 

"  The  same  old  love  of  laughing  in  this  beautiful  mad-house 

of  Earth." 

JEAN  PAUL  BICHTER. 

MOTLEY  ever  are  the  minglings  of  this  strange, 
sleep-rounded  life, 

"  A  wedding  or  a  festival, 
A  mourning  or  a  funeral." 

And  Speech  reflects  this  infinite  richness  and  va- 
riety. For  if  language  has  run  pliant  and  plastic  into 
the  mould  of  our  every-day  thoughts  and  feelings, 
lending  itself  to  the  uses  of  the  Understanding  and 
the  Common  Sense,  and  smacking  of  our  workshop 
world,  yet  can  it  also 

"  Babble  of  green  fields." 


140  Ramble  Seventh. 

If  it  generally  exhibits  but  broad  high- ways  and 
level  plains — platitudes  often  enough :  yet  does  it 
many  a  time  lead  off  through  by-paths  to  wild  woods 
and  cavernous  depths  and  elfin  haunts,  where  visionary 
forms  and  rustling  spirit-voices  meet  eye  and  ear! 

The  Grotesque  and  Arabesque  play  through  speech. 
Children  of  the  nimble  fancy,  they  round  our  lan- 
guage with  a  fringe  of  smiles  and  tears.  The  fantastic 
in  Words  is  but  a  reflection  of  the  fantastic  in  Things. 
For  Nature,  too,  loves  a  freak.  And  as,  amid  the  infi- 
nite variety  of  organic  and  inorganic  forms,  creative 
energy  at  times  sports  in  seemingly  lawless  prodi- 
gality, so  the  informing  Fancy  has  interwoven,  in 
words  its  fairy  imaginings — 

"  Retinues  of  airy  kings, 
Skirts  of  angels,  starry  wings  1" 

1  NIGHT-MAKE  '  is  a  snatch  of  fancy  taken  from  the 
Scandinavian  mythology.  In  that  mythology  Mara 
was  a  Finland  elf,  who  in  night-sleep  came  with  horrid 
visitation  to  men.  And  in  Laing's  Chronicles  I  find 
as  follows : 

"  Vailand  who  ruled  over  the  Upsal  domain,  was  bewitched 
by  the  elf  Mara.  He  became  drowsy,  and  laid  himself  down  to 
sleep ;  but  when  he  had  slept  but  a  little  while,  he  cried  out, 
saying,  Mara  was  treading  on  him ;  but  when  they  took  hold  of 


Fancies  and  Fantastics.  141 

his  head  she  trod  upon  his  legs,  and  when  they  laid  hold  of  his 
legs,  she  pressed  upon  his  head  and  it  was  his  death." 

Chronicles  of  the  Kings  of  Norway. 

1  PREPOSTEROUS  '  is  curious  enough.  It  is  prce  and 
posterw,  having  that  before  which  ought  to  come 
after — "putting  the  cart  before  the  horse,"  as  we  say ; 
and  how  could  one  be  more  perfectly  brought  to  a 
stand  than  by  being  '  non-plussed ' — that  is,  so  bam- 
boozled as  to  be  able  to  say — non  plus — no  more! 
'INTERLARD'  is  plainly  the  mixing  fat  and  lean — 
entrelarder ;  to  get  things  '  on  tick '  is  properly  to  get 
them  on  ticket  or  bill — a  form  common  in  old  litera- 
ture ;  a  '  HABERDASHER  '  has,  accprding  to  Minsheu, 
a  fantastic  genesis  in  the  expression  of  a  shopkeeper 
offering  his  wares,  Habt  ihr  dass? — have  you  this; 
1  TEETOTALISM  '  is  just  T-totalism,  that  is  temper  ance- 
totalism  !  and  '  NEWS  '  is  matter  brought  from  all  quar- 
ters—(N)orth,  (E)ast,  (W)est,  (S)outh  =  1ST  E  W  S ! 

But  these  Gypsies  of  language,  seemingly  so  destitute 
of  history  or  ancestry,  do  often,  when  keenly  tracked, 
reveal  long  historic  processes  in  their  composition. 
"What  a  strangely  extravagant  round  has  the  word 
'  LOCO-FOCO  '  taken !  We  first  ha"ve  it,  probably  as  a 
corruption  of  loco  foci  (i.  e.  in  place  of  a  fire)  and  so  ap- 
plied to  lucifer  matches  (Lucifer  matches !  that  is,  light 
bringing  matches) — and  then  by  a  bizarre  incident,  in 


142  Ramble  Seventh. 

wliicli  lucifer  matches  acted  a  part,  applied  as  a 
designation  of  a  particular  political  party.  The  occa- 
sion of  its  application  is  said  to  have  been  as  follows. 
At  a  meeting  of  the  extreme  democrats  in  Tammany 
Hall,  New  York,  there  was  a  great  diversity  of 
opinion,  and  consequently  great  confusion — on  account 
of  which  the  chairman  left  his  seat  and  the  lights  were 
extinguished  with  a  view  to  dissolving  the  meeting ; 
when  those  in  favor  of  extreme  measures  produced 
loco-foco  matches,  rekindled  the  lights,  continued  the 
meeting,  and  accomplished  their  object.  Hence  the 
name  of  'LOCO-FOCO'  which  continueth  even  unto 
this  day.  Again,  the  familiar  phrase  to  '  OUT-HEROD 
HEROD,'  is  not  a  mere  chance-combination,  but  holds 
in  itself  the  pith  and  marrow  of  a  thousand  legends. 
In  regard  to  King  Herod  we  are  merely  told  that  "  he 
sat  upon  a  throne  and  made  an  oration"  unto  the 
people — of  what  character  we  are  not  informed,  and 
yet  from  subsequent  events  and  the  awful  punishment 
which  befel  him,  we  may  reasonably  conclude  that  it 
was  bombastic,  bold  and  blasphemous.  But  in  the 
old  'Mysteries'  and  'Moralities'  he  is  constantly 
represented  as  of  a  fierce,  proud,  virulent  character. 
Now  it  was  doubtless  from  these  that  Shakespeare 
drew  the  expression:  and  hence  its  peculiarly  ex- 
pressive power. 


Fancies  and  Fantastics.  143 

That  old  expression  to  sit  *  above,  or  below  the  salt ' 
becomes  instinct  with  meaning  when  we  recollect  that 
it  was  the  custom,  in  old  times,  to  place  a  large  dish 
of  salt  about  the  middle  of  the  table,  '  above '  which 
the  more  honorable  guests  were  wont  to  sit,  while  the 
vulgar  took  their  places  in  unnoticed  obscurity  '  below.' 
And  Sidney  Smith  thus  gives  us  the  origin  of  the 
expression  *  within  or  without  the  pale :'  "  The  limit, 
which  divided  the  possessions  of  the  English  settlers 
[in  Ireland]  from  those  of  the  native  Irish  was 
called  the  .pale ;  and  the  expression  of  inhabitants 
within  the  pale  and  without  the  pale,  were  the  terms  by 
which  the  two  nations  were  distinguished."* 

The  phrase  'I  don't  care  a  fig'  would  seem,  at  the 
first  blush,  to  contain  no  special  force,  the  fig  being  to 
us  rather  a  valuable  article  ;f  but  the  expression  rises 
to  pungent  point  when  we  recollect  that  the  phrase  is  an 
importation  from  Spain,  where  figs  are  decidedly  cheap: 
for  which  I  find  a  double  voucher  in  Shakespeare : 

"Pistol.  Die  and  be  damned;  and^o  for  thy  friendship  1 

Fludlen.  It  is  well. 

Pistol.  The  fig  of  Spain  I 

Fluelkn.  Very  good."  Henry  V.  III.  6. 

*  Edinburgh  Review :  article  on  "  Parnell  and  Ireland." 
t  Our   'Not  a  straw' — what  the  Latins  named  nihil  (ne 
hilum) — would  seem  to  carry  more  force. 


144  Ramble  Seventh. 

Certain  words,  indeed,  are  absurdly  fantastic,  mere 
lusus  verborum:  and  it  is  only  their  history,  that 
comes  in  to  integrate  them  with  by -gone  circum- 
stances, that  can  restore  them  to  the  region  of  common- 
sense.  For  example,  five  important  sea-port  towns, 
on  the  eastern  coast  of  England,  opposite  France,  were 
properly  enough  called  collectively  the  Cinque-ports, 
or  Jive  harbors ;  but,  when,  forgetting  the  literal  im- 
port, people  came  to  speak  about  seven  of  the  '  Cinque- 
ports,'  it  assuredly  became  more  than  most  ridiculous. 
1  DEAN  '  (decanus]  is  properly  the  leader  of  a  file  ten 
feet  deep.  *  QUARANTINE,'  again,  we  plainly  perceive, 
implies  the  forty  days  during  which  ships  suspected 
of  carrying  disease  were  obliged  to  wait;  but  such 
combinations  as  a  '  quarantine '  of  five,  or  of  ten  days 
twist  arithmetic  out  of  all  proportion.  To  be  sure,  it 
will  not  do  for  us  to  make  any  violent  protest  against 
the  like  anomalies,  as  this  overlaying  of  primary  by 
secondary  formations  is  fundamental  in  the  philoso- 
phy of  Speech :  but  the  process  none  the  less  demands 
vigilant  oversight. 

Then,  there  are  pure  pieces  of  whimsey.  '  KICK- 
SHAW' is  an  instance  to  the  point — supposed  to  be 
intended  for  '  quelque  chose,'  that  is,  something,  and 
hence  quite  suitable  for  aught  "  fantastical,  uncom- 
mon, or  that  has  no  particular  name,"  as  the  dictiona- 


Fancies  and  Fantastics. 

ries  define  it.     As  for   (  QUANDARY,'   that  is  still 
worse : 

"  Falstaff.  Mistress  Ford ; — come,  Mistress  Ford, — 
Quickly.  Marry,  this  is  the  short  and  the  long  of  it ;  you  have 
brought  her  into  such  a  canaries  as  'tis  wonderful.     The  best 
courtier  of  them  all,  when  the  court  lay  at  Windsor,  could  never 
have  brought  her  into  such  a  canary."" 

Merry  Wives  of  Windsor,  II.  2. 

And  into  a  pretty  '  canaries/  too,  has  good  Mistress 
Quickly  brought  her  words !  For  the  term  she  in- 
tended is,  at  its  best,  *  quandary,'  and  that  is  fantas- 
tic enough — being,  as  is  supposed,  a  corruption  for 
Qu'en  dira-t-on —  What  will  they  say  f — which,  though 
not  very  elegant,  is  yet  sufficiently  descriptive  of 
being  in  a  terrible  fix  ! 

A  few  Latin  whimsicalities  may  not  be  out  of  place 
here.  '  Hocus  pocus '  is  one  of  the  most  outre  of  the 
tribe,  and  has  a  fantastic  enough  origin.  Fantastic, 
at  least,  if  we  make  it  a  corruption  of  Hoc  est  corpus 
(Christ!) ;  if  it  be  true  that  the  ignorant  and  juggling 
'  priests '  "  who  gabble  Latin  which  they,  do  not  under- 
stand," instead  of  saying  Hoc  est  corpus  meum  trans- 
formed it  into  hocus  pocus  (meum)  \*  May  we  not 

*  There  are,  of  course  innumerable  etymologies  for  this 
phrase :  Some  (Todd,  Johnson's  Editor,  among  them)  take  it 

7 


146  Ramble  Seventh. 

legitimately  enough  form  'HOAX'  from  this?  To 
hocus,  indeed,  I  find  originally  used  in  the  same  sense. 
Henry  YII.  is  said  to  have  told  a  story  similar  to  this, 
of  a  stupid  old  monk  who,  in  repeating  his  breviary 
constantly  put  mumpsimus  instead  of  sumpsimus;  and 
who,  on  being  told  of  his  mistake  said  it  might  be  so 
for  what  he  knew,  but  "mumpsimus  was  what  he 
was  taught  and  he  would  continue  to  say  it  "* — hence 
( mumpsimus,'  though  discarded  now,  was  formerly 
used  for  an  ignorant  and  incorrigible  blunder.  Igno- 
ramuses all  of  them !  And  yet  '  IGNORAMUS  '  itself  is 
extravagant  enough :  for  it  is  evidently  the  first  per- 
son plural  of  the  present  indicative  of  the  verb  ignoro, 
Le.,  we  are  ignorant — and,  according  to  Webster,  "the 

from  Ochus  Bochm,  the  name  of  a  famous  magician  which  the 
Italian  conjurors  were  wont  to  invoke.  Webster  says  it  is 
Welsh ! — but  we  have  no  patience  to  quote  the  trash.  Risum 
teneas! 

In  regard  to  the  above  derivation  Pegge  says :  "  This  we 
may  believe  when  we  are  told  that  they  [the  priests]  call  part 
of  the  funeral  service,  De  Profundis,  by  the  style  and  title  of 
Deborah  Fundish :  after  which  we  cannot  be  surprised  that  an 
ignorant  imprisoned  Cockney  pick  pocket  should  call  a  Habeas 
Corpus — a  hap'oth  of  Copperas,  said  to  be  the  language  of 
Newgate." 

Pegge' s  Anecdotes  of  the  English  Language,  p.  75. 

*  Nares'  Glossary. 


Fancies  and  Fantastics.  147 

indorsement  which  a  grand  jury  make  on  a  bill  pre- 
sented to  them  for  inquiry,  when  there  is  not  evidence 
to  support  the  charges !"  The  word  deserves  a  better 
fate. 

We  all  remember  Hudibrastic  Butler's  lines  on 
that  Scholastic  limbo 

"  Where  Entity  and  quidity 
The  ghosts  of  defunct  bodies  fly." 

Most  assuredly  defunct — with  very  little  something- 
ness  (to  render  quiditas  literally)  left ;  except  that  the 
lawyer  has  inherited  the  '  quiddits '  and  the  '  quillets.' 
Of  their  '  QUODLIBETS,'  the  elder  D'Israeli  thus  dis- 
courses :  "The  Scholastic  questions  were  called  Ques- 
tiones  Quod  libeticce ;  and  they  were  frequently  so 
ridiculous  that  we  have  retained  the  word  Quodlibet 
in  our  vernacular  style  to  express  anything  ridicu- 
lously subtile ;  something  which  comes  at  length  to 
be  distinguished 

<  With  all  the  rash  dexterity  of  wit.'  " 

But  we  have  not  done  with  our  Latinisms  yet. 
Thus  have  we  not  still  'QUORUMS:'  that  is  to  say, 
bodies — quorum — of  whom  these  present  are  legally 
sufficient  to  transact  the  business.  '  QUIDNUNCS  '  are 


• 


148  Ramble  Seventh. 

at  present  quite  as  anxious  as  ever  to  know  what 
now  f  while  there  would  seem  to  be  even  an  increase 
of  ignorant  empirics,  with  their  '  NOSTRUMS,'  in  regard 
to  which  they  vauntingly  say :  "Id  nostrum  est — this 
is  ours — an  arcanum  which  nobody  else  possesses, 
and  wherewith  we  will  cure  all  your  maladies!" 
From  quacks  and  quackeries  we  naturally  stroll  to 
'  MOUNTEBANKS  ' — who,  it  is  evident,  have  their  cha- 
racter lurking  out  from  their  very  name:  for  it  is 
impossible  to  conceal  from  us,  that  he  is  just  one  who 
mounts  the  bench  (monte  bane),  and  there  rants  respect- 
ing his  own  skill  and  the  infallibility  of  his  medicines ; 
often,  however,  managing  very  effectually  to  'gull' 
and  { coney-catch '  (what  very  rabbits  they  must  be) 
the  '  greenhorns ' — literally  such. 

Talking  about  *  gulling '  (which  we  still  have)  and 
*  coney-catching '  (which  we  do  not  have),  I  should 
notice  that  D'Israeli,  in  the  "Curiosities  of  Litera- 
ture," has  a  curious  passage  in  regard  to  this  practice, 
which  the  reader  may  consult  for  himself.*  And  in 
Overbury's  Characters,  we  have  also  the  following : 

"  He  cheats  young  guls  that  are  newly  come  to  towne ;  and 
when  the  keeper  of  the  Ordinary  blames  him  for  it,  he  answers 
him  in  his  owne  profession,  that  a  woodcocke  must  be  plucked 
ere  it  be  drest" 

*  Page  230  and  following. 


OF  THE 


Fancies  and  FantasticsfU  ^  I  ^  $&  S  I  T  Yj 


The  allusion  to  the  woodcock  as  typi 
of  intense  verdancy  and  witlessness  was  quite  in 
vogue  some  time  ago.  Thus  we  have  in  Shake- 
speare : 

11  0  this  woodcock!  what  an  ass  it  is  !" 

Taming  of  the  Shrew,  I.  2. 


See,  however,  when  we  think  of  it  for  a  moment, 
what  a  curious  collocation  is  thus  produced  —  a  wood- 
cock and  an  ass  !  But  so  has  language  in  its  hot  pur- 
suit of  analogy  harried  creation  for  emblems.  A 
modern  poetical  anatomist  has  thrown  out  the  intima- 
that  the  whole  animal  kingdom  is  simply  man 
disintegrated.  And  assuredly  we  have  in  language  a 
record  of  how  the  apprehensive  fancy  has  seized  on 
animal  suggestions  as  symbols  of  metaphysical  and 
moral  qualities.  Thus  we  typify  courage  by  the 
'lion;'  ferocity  by  the  l  tiger'  (wolf,  etc.);  frolicsome 
gentleness  by  the  'lamb'  —  provided,  indeed,  this 
amiable  quality  degenerate  not  into  '  sAeepishness  ;' 
and  '  beastliness  '  in  general  by  the  hog  !  How  keenly 
do  we  characterize,  when  we  speak  about  a  boy 
(  playing  fox  ;'  or  of  one  *  crowing  '  over  another,  or 
of  a  woman  {  gad-ding  '  about  !  So,  too,  our  '  BUCKS  ' 
—  I  fear  they  almost  deserve  the  name  of  *  COXCOMBS' 
(i.e.  code's,  combs),  —  often  enough  go  out  a-{  for&ing,' 


Q  A**?^- 


150  Ramble  Seventh. 

and  *  capering  '  about  (caper,  a  goat) — which,  is  very 
much  like  a  goat,  indeed ! 

And  more  from  the  animal  world.  The  ichthyo- 
logic  fact  of  the  gudgeon's  easily  swallowing  the  bait 
has  been  imported  by  the  vivid  fancy  into  speech  in 
the  word  '  GUDGEOX  ' — a  term  expressive  of  a  facile 
disposition  with  whom  anything  readily  goes  down. 
Cicero  traces  a  curiously  fantastic  connection  between 
'  MUSCLE  '  (musculus)  and  musculus,  a  little  mouse ; 
and  the  raven  has  got  itself  into  language  in  our 
'  ravenous?  The  Etymologists  charge  the  cuckoo  with 
having  fathered  that  ugly  word  *  CUCKOLD  '  upon 
us  ;*  while  '  COTVARD  '  is  asserted  by  the  old  lexico- 
graphs  to  be  just  a  contraction  for  cow>hearted — a 
derivation  which  certainly  does  not  stand  any  very 
close  test,  though  it  is  not  without  a  degree  of  vrai- 
semblance  when  we  view  it  in  connection  with  our 
verbs  to  coiv,  cower  etc.f  So  our  verb  to  'HAWK' 

*  But  see  Tooke's  "  Diversions  of  Purley,"  under  this  word : 
and  for  the  connection  of  the  Scotch  'GOWK'  therewith,  see 
Jamieson's  Scottish  Dictionary. 

t  If,  as  is  asserted,  the  original  French  orthography  of  '  cow- 
ard' were  culvert,  the  derivation,  which  has  been  proposed, 
from  culum  and  vertere — to  turn  the  tail  (very  '  coward '  like, 
indeed !)  will  receive  countenance.  See  Minshew  and  Menage ; 
also  Tooke,  and  Tyrwhitt  on  Chaucer. 


Fancies  and  Fantastics.  151 

and  the  substantive  'HAWKER'  may  possibly  have 
reference  to  one  who  carried  round  hawks  for  sale. 
Moreover  the  wooden  frame  in  which  he  kept  his 
birds  he  called  a  '  CADGE  '  whence  we  have  the  old 
English  (and  the  present  Scotch)  '  CADGER  '  which  in 
English  becomes  a  very  queer  '  CODGER  !' 

But  can  the  grotesque  of  animal  symbolism  farther 
go  than  in  those  curiously  complicated  allusions  to 
rats  and  rhyming  which  we  find  scattered  throughout 
the  elder  dramatists.  Thus  in  As  You  Like  It,  Kosa- 
lind  says,  apropos  of  the  profusion  of  verses  lavished 
on  her : 

"  I  was  never  so  be-rhymed  since  Pythagoras'  time,  that  I 
was  an  Irish  rat,  which  I  can  hardly  remember." 

And  you  may  remember  the  very  sarcastic  witti- 
cism which  Dean  Swift,  in  his  Advice  to  a  Young  Poet, 
picks  out  of  it : 

1  Sir  Philip  Sidney,"  observes  he,  "  mentions  rhyming  to 
death,  which  is  said  to  be  done  in  Ireland;  and  truly,  to  our 
honour  be  it  spoken,  that  power,  in  a  great  measure,  continues 
with  us  to  this  day  I " 

But  anent  rats  and  rhyming,  let  old  Yerstegan  tell 
us  a  story  that  will  set  the  matter  in  its  clearest  light : 

"There  came  into  the  town  of  Hamel  in  the  countrey  of 


152  Ramble  Seventh. 

Brunswyc  an  od  kynd  of  compagnion,  who  for  the  fantastical 
cote  which  hee  wore  beeing  wrought  with  sundry  colours,  was 
called  the  pyed  pyper ;  for  a  pyper  hee  was  besydes  his  other 
qualities.  This  fellow  forsooth  offred  the  townsmen  for  a  cer- 
tain somme  of  mony  to  rid  the  town  of  all  the  rattes  that  were 
in  it  (for  at  that  tyme  the  burgers  were  with  that  vermin  greatly 
annoyed).  The  accord  in  fyne  beeing  made ;  the  pyed  pyper 
with  a  shril  pype  went  pyping  through  the  streets,  and  foorth- 
with  the  rattes  came  all  running  out  of  the  houses  in  great  num- 
bers after  him ;  all  which  hee  led  unto  the  river  of  Weaser  and 
therein  drowned  them.  This  donne,  and  no  one  rat  more  per- 
ceaved  to  bee  left  in  the  town ;  he  afterward  came  to  demaund 
his  reward  according  to  his  bargain,  but  beeing  told  that  the 
bargain  was  not  made  with  him  in  good  earnest,  to  wit  with 
an  opinion  that  even  hee  could  bee  able  to  do  such  a  feat ; 
they  cared  not  what  they  accorded  unto,  when  they  iinagyned 
it  could  never  bee  deserved,  and  so  never  to  be  demaunded : 
but  nevertheless  seeing  hee  had  donne  such  an  unlykely  thing 
in  deed,  they  were  content  to  give  a  good  reward;  and  so 
offred  him  far  less  than  hee  lookt  for ;  but  hee  therewith  discon- 
tented, said  he  would  have  his  ful  recompence  according  to  his 
bargain,  but  they  utterly  denying  to  give  it  him,  hee  threatened 
the  with  revege;  they  bad  him  do  his  worst,  whereupon  he 
betakes  him  again  to  his  pype,  and  going  through  the  streets  as 
before,  was  followed  of  a  number  of  boyes  out  at  one  of  the 
gates  of  the  citie,  and  coming  to  a  little  hil,  there  opened  in  the 
syde  thereof  a  wyde  hole,  into  the  which  himself  and  all  the 
children  beeing  in  number  one  hundred  and  thirtie  did  enter  ; 
and  beeing  entred  the  hil  closed  up  again,  and  became  as  before. 


Fancies  and  Fantastics.  153 

A  boy  that  beeing  lame  and  came  somewhat  lagging  behynd  the 
rest,  seeing  this  that  hapned  returned  presently  back  and  told 
what  hee  had  seen ;  foorthwith  began  great  lamentation  among 
the  parents  for  their  children,  and  men  were  sent  out  with  all 
dilligence,  both  by  land  and  by  water  to  enquyre  yf  ought  could 
bee  heard  of  them,  but  with  all  the  enquyrie  they  could  possibly 
use,  nothing  more  than  is  aforesaid  could  of  them  be  understood. 
In  memorie  thereof  it  was  then  ordayned,  that  from  thence-forth 
no  drum,  pype  or  other  instrument,  should  be  sounded  in  the 
street  leading  to  the  gate  through  which  they  passed ;  nor  no 
osterie  to  bee  there  holden.  And  it  was  also  established,  that 
from  that  tyme  forward  in  all  publyke  wrytings  that  should  bee 
made  in  that  town,  after  the  date  therein  set  down  of  the  yeare 
of  our  Lord,  the  date  of  the  yeare  of  this  going  foorth  of  their 
children  should  bee  added,  the  which  they  have  accordingly 
ever  since  continued.  And  this  great  wonder  hapned  on  the 
22.  day  of  luly,  in  the  yeare  of  our  Lord  one  thowsand  three 
hundreth  seaventie,  and  six." 

Restitution  of  Decayed  Intelligence,  85. 

'  Big  words!  Here,  too,  the  grotesque  comes  into 
play.  And  what  a  subtle  psychology  lies  in  these 
Cyclopean  efforts  of  the  human  mind.  The  affecta- 
tion of  words  big  merely  for  the  sake  of  their  bigness 
is  limited  to  no  country  and  to  no  age.  ^SLUBBER- 
DEGULLION,'  which  Butler  employs,  in  Hudibras, 
affords  an  example  to  the  point.  So  also  '  SPLENDI- 
Dious '  used  by  Drayton,  though  without  the  sanction 


1^4  Ramble  Seventh. 

either  of  etymology  or  analogy.  Shakespeare  is  in 
these  extravaganzas,  as  everywhere,  pre-eminent. 
Instance  his  '  AXTHROPOPHAGINIAN  '  which  the  Host, 
in  The  Merry  Wives  of  Windsor,  gets  off  in  order  to 
overwhelm  poor  Simple : 

Host.  What  wouldst  them  have,  boor?  What,  thick-skin? 
Speak,  breathe,  discuss;  brief,  short,  quick,  snap. 

Simple.  Marry,  sir,  I  come  to  speak  with  Sir  John  Falstaff, 
from  Master  Slender. 

Host.  There's  his  chamber,  his  house,  his  castle,  his  standing- 
bed  and  truckle-bed ;  'tis  painted  about  with  the  story  of  the 
prodigal,  fresh  and  new;  Go,  knock  and  call;  he'll  speak  like 
an  anthropophaginian  unto  thee :  knock,  I  say. 

Merry  Wives  of  Windsor,  TV.  5. 

In  the  days  of  good  Queen  Bess,  while  through  the 
brain  of  "Sweet  Will"  Tempests  and  Mid  Summer 
Night's  Dreams  were  singing  themselves,  lived  also 
one  John  Lylly  who  became  the  founder  of  a  new  Ism 
— Euphuism*  naniely,  or  Fine  Speaking — a  species 
of  bizarrerie  which,  by  the  constant  use  of  the  far- 
thest-fetched allegory  and  the  most  farcical  bombast, 
succeeded  in  producing  some  of  the  most  extraordi- 

*  His  two  books  are  entitled,  "  Euphues  and  his  England," 
and  "The  Anatomy  of  Wit."  Sir  Walter  Scott,  it  will  be 
remembered  has,  hi  the  "  Monastery,"  a  popular  representation 
of  Euphuism  in  the  character  of  Sir  Percie  Shafton. 


Fancies  and  Fantastics.  155 

nary  contortions  of  which  our  language  could  be 
imagined  susceptible.  Immense,  however,  was  the 
success  of  the  Euphuist.  Indeed  it  was  for  a  time 
pushed  to  perfect  mania.  "  All  our  ladies,"  says 
Blount,  "were  then  his  scollers,  and  that  beautie  in 
Court  who  could  not  parley  Euphuesme  ;was  as  little 
regarded  as  shee  which  now  there  speaks  not  French." 
Blount  was  the  Editor  of  Lylly's  books,  and,  of 
course,  an  adoring  admirer  of  him  :  and  as  the  pane- 
gyrics he  pronounces  on  his  master  are  altogether  in 
the  Euphuistic  style  I  shall  quote  one  of  them :  "  The 
witty,  comical,  facetiously  quick,  and  quickly  face- 
tious John  Lylly — he  that  sat  at  Apollo's  table  and 
to  whom  Phoebus  gave  a  wreath  of  his  own  bays 
without  snatching !" 

Shakespeare's  keen  eye,  however,  soon  penetrated 
the  affectation,  and  accordingly  we  find  him  taking 
frequent  occasion  to  ridicule  the  absurdity.  Thus  in 
the  First  Part  of  Henry  IY.,  and  also  in  the  charac- 
ter of  Osric,  in  Hamlet,  we  have  a  perfect  character- 
izing of  the  Euphuistic  courtier  of  his  day.  Hamlet's 
summing  up  of  the  character  is  so  complete  that  I 
really  cannot  resist  quoting  it : 

"He  did  comply  [i.e.  compliment]  with  his  dug,  before  he 
sucked  it.  Thus  has  he  (and  many  more  of  the  same  breed. 


i  ^6  Ramble  Seventh. 

that,  I  know,  the  drowsy  age  dotes  on)  only  got  the  tune  of  the 
time  and  outward  habit  of  encounter ;  a  kind  of  yesty  collection, 
which  carries  them  through  and  through  the  most  fond  and  win- 
nowed opinions;  and  do  but  blow  them  to  their  trial,  the  hubbies 
are  out." 

Hamlet,  V.  2. 

Euphuism  died  a  natural  death.  Its  ghost  has, 
nevertheless,  appeared  at  various  periods,  in  various 
guises.  Often,  indeed,  in  the  shape  of  a  most  abomi- 
nable affectation  of  Gallicisms — of  which  take  but 
one  example : 

"  I  was  chez  moi,  inhaling  the  odeur  musquee  of  my  scented 
boudoir,  when  the  Prince  de  Z.  entered.  He  found  me  in  my 
demirtoiktte,  blaste  surtout  and  pensively  engaged  in  solitary 
conjugation  of  the  verb  s'ennuyer;  and  though  he  had  never 
been  one  of  my  habitues,  or  by  any  means  des  notres,  I  was  not 
disinclined,  at  this  moment  of  my  delassement,  to  glide  with  him 
into  the  crocchio  restretto  of  familiar  chat  1" 

Lady  Morgan's  New  Monthly* 

So  much  for  a  class  of  writers  of  which  literature 
has  never  been  destitute  of  specimens,  and  in  refer- 
ence to  whom  we  can  most  heartily  say,  with 
Mercutio : 

*  The  later  productions  of  Madame  D'Arbly  are  replete  with 
illustrations. 


Fancies  and  Fantastics.  157 

"The  pox  of  such  antic,  lisping,  affecting  fantasticals ;  these 
new  tuners  of  accents ! — By  Jesu,  a  very  good  Hade ! — a  very 
tall  man  ! — Why,  is  not  this  a  lamentable  thing,  grandsire,  that 
we  should  be  thus  afflicted  with  these  strange  flies,  these  fashion- 
mongers,  these  pardonez  mois,  who  stand  so  much  on  the  new 
form,  that  they  cannot  sit  at  ease  on  the  old  bench  ?  0,  their 
bons,  their  Ions  /" 

Romeo  and  Juliet,  II.  4. 

Sometimes,  indeed,  we  proceed  to  the  opposite 
extreme  "and  clip  our  terms  so  villainously  short — 
so  curtail  them — that  they  are  scarcely  recognizable. 
Such  are  some  already  noticed,  as  Mob.,  Red.,  Incog. 
— Such  also  are  Do.,  Pro  and  Con.,  and  the  old  obs. 
and  sols,  (contracted  from  objectiones  et  solutiones). 
1  PUG  '  and  *  NUNCLE  '  are  additional  examples.  So, 
too,  Have  or  have  not  shortens  into  '  Hob  or  nob ;'  To 
Do  off  or  do  on  (i.e.  to  put  off,  or  put  on)  appears  in 
the  guise  of  to  ' 'Doff  or  don,'  and  cousin  very  soon 
becomes  sweet  *  coz.' 

Diminutives,  indeed,  are  the  natural  language  of 
love  4  a  principle  which  could  receive  no  more -forci- 
ble illustration  than  the  abbreviations  of  proper  names. 
This  is  constantly  done  by  familiarity  and  friendship. 
A  monosyllable — which  the  popular  instinct  always 
struggles  towards — is  warm  and  cozy — hearty  as  the 
pressure  of  a  friend's  hand ;  a  polysyllable  is  stiff 


158  Ramble  Seventh. 

and  formal — suspicious  as  the  obsequious  bow  of  a 
courtier.  '  Frank  '  and  '  Ben '  and  '  Will '  are  seated 
at  the  heart's  hearth-stone,  while  Malachia,  Obediah 
or  Jeremiah  are  knocking,  unheeded  at  the  door. 

Nares  quotes  a  curious  passage  on  this  subject  from 
Hey  wood,  a  few  lines  of  which  may  be  worth  citing. 
Talking  of  the  old  poets — his  contemporaries — he 
says: 

"Excellent  Bewmont  in  the  foremost  ranke 
Of  the  rar'st  wits,  was  never  more  than  Frank. 
Mellefluous  Shakespeare,  whose  inchanting  quill 
Commanded  mirth  or  passion,  was  but  Will. 
And  famous  Jonson,  though  his  learned  pen 
Be  dipt  in  Castaly,  is  still  but  Ben. 
Fletcher  and  Webster,  of  that  learned  packe 
None  of  the  mean'st,  yet  neither  was  but  JacJce 
Decker's  but  Tom,  nor  May  nor  Middleton. 
And  hee's  now  but  Jacke  Foord,  that  once  was  John !" 
Hierarchie  of  Blessed  Angels,  B.  4. 

De  Quincy  I  think  it  is  who  exhibits  this  same 
principle  of  abbreviation  applied  to  the  classic  writers. 
Thus  Quintus  Horatius  Flaccus,  is,  with  us,  just  that 
jolly  dog  Horace ;  Publius  Virgilius  Maro  has  dwin- 
dled down  to  the  familiar  Virgil  and  Caius  Orispus 
Sallustius  glories  in  the  simple  sobriquet  of  Sallust. 
It  is  curious,  also,  to  observe,  in  this  connection,  the 


Fancies  and  Fantastics.  159 

names  which  have  not  been  shortened,  and  to  trace 
the  cause  thereof — whether  from  the  writer's  not 
being  naturalized  in  the  country,  or  what  not.  But 
so  much  for  names. 

We  might  discover,  to  push  the  matter  of  abbrevi- 
ations a  little  farther,  something  fantastic  even  in 
particular  letters.  That  learned  man  Jovianus  Pon- 
tanus  writ  two  books  concerning  that  strange  rune 
'  H ;'  '  S '  has  a  long  and  mystic  history.  Not  to 
mention  the  cabalistic  use  made  of  the  Runes,  and 
the  semi-sacred  letters  of  the  Hebrews,  how  contemp- 
tuously do  we  talk  about  persons  who  are  not  able 
to  tell  a  '  B  from  a  Bull's  foot ;'  while  '  K '  was,  we 
know,  long  called  the  dog's  letter — an  instance  of 
which  we  have  in  the  dialogue  between  the  Nurse 
and  Komeo,  in  Romeo  and  Juliet : 

Nurse.  Doth  not  Rosemary  and  Romeo  begin  both  with  a 
letter  ? 

Rom.  Ay,  nurse ;  what  of  that  ?  both  begin  with  an  R. 

Nurse.  Ah  mocker !  that's  the  dog's  name ;  R  is  for  the  dog. 
No :  I  know  it  begins  with  some  other  letter,  etc. 

Romeo  and  Juliet,  II.  4. 

The  mention  of  'rosemary,'  by  the  nurse,  in  the 
above  passage,  suggests  a  remark  thereanent.  Note, 
however,  that  it  has  no  connection  whatever  with 


]6o  Ramble  Seventh. 

Kose-Mary  as,  at  first  sight,  one  might  be  apt  to  sup- 
pose ;  but  is  simply  a  corruption  for  ros  marinus  —  the 
sea-rose.  Such  hybridisms  are,  yet,  by  no  means 
uncommon  in  our  language,  nor  are  they  confined  to 
any  particular  language.  The  principle  in  their  for- 
mation seems  to  be  just  this  :  when  a  foreign  word 
makes  its  appearance,  the  people  —  who  are  ever  (spite 
of  Dictionaries  and  Philologic  Academies)  the  real 
language-makers  —  immediately  attempt  to  bend  it  to 
some  familiar  form  —  to  give  it 

"  A  local  habitation  and  a  name  " 

among  them.  Nor  is  it  to  be  wondered  at,  if  oddities 
and  whimsicalities  are  often  enough  the  result.  Thus 
the  French  Cartreuse  has  transformed  itself  into  our 
'  Charter-house  /'  the  German  vertugale  we  are  fain  to 
turn  to  some  account,  and  so  we  make  it  a  'far- 
thingalef  while  the  Roman  Asparagus  springs  up  in 
British  soil,  as  ^  sparrow-grass^  and  '  STAVES-  ACRE  '  (a 
medicinal  plant)  —  a  word  formerly  in  use  —  is  just  a 
corruption  of  the  Greek 


*  I  might  have  noticed,  before  leaving  this  subject,  the  very 
curious  shapes,  which  the  names  of  European  taverns  often 
assume.  Thus  the  'BACCHANALS'  has  become  the  'BAG  AND 
NAILS/  while  'BOULOGNE  MOUTH'  appears  as  the  'BULL  AND 
MOUTH  '  etc.  See,  also,  De  Vere's  Comparative  Philology. 


Fancies  and  Fantastics.  161 

Often  times  there  would  seem  to  be  some  strange 
fatality  attached  to  certain  words.  For  we  see  them 
wafted  by  favoring  gales  to  the  very  zenith  of  popu- 
larity— swaying  and  registering  the  sentiment  of  the 
times,  and,  in  their  own  ludicrous  or  pathetic  associa- 
tions, furnishing  the  key  wherewith  to  unlock  the 
floodgates  of  public  laughter  or  of  public  pity. 

We  are  the  creatures  of  Extremes :  words  feel  this. 
They  are  the  objects  of  our  wildest  caprice.  Now 

/^honored  and  lionized — reveling  in  hut  and  hall,  then 
cast  aside  and  forgoken — damned  so  that  prayers 
offered  up  in  all  churches  would  not  save  them.  This 
Abuse  of  Words  might  add  a  strange  chapter  to  the 
"Curiosities  of  Literature;"  and  I  think  it  not  at  all 
improbable  that  one  of  the  faithfulest  indications  of 
the  tendency  of  popular  feeling,  and  one  of  the  truest 
sublimations  of  the  hour  or  the  Age  are  to  be  sought 

,  in  our  common,  vulgar  catch-words  and  bandied 
phrases — extravaganzas  that  seem  to  have  no  rationale, 
which  appear  amongst  us  as  outlaws  and  rebels  that 
acknowledge  allegiance  to  no  established  power,  but 
which  come — shift  and  sway  us — leave  their  moment- 
ary impression,  and  then  go  as  they  came — without 
announcement  and  without  farewell. 

In  the  time  of  Shakespeare,  for  instance,  the  em- 
ployment of  the  word  'HUMOK'  was  carried  to  the 


162  Ramble  Seventh. 

most  ridiculous  excess.  The  'fast'  gents  of  those 
days  had  all  their  thousand  and  one  '  humors '  which 
they  affected  and  pampered — any  conceivable  pecu- 
liarity or  bizarrerie  being,  for  the  time  their  'humor.' 
Nay,  not  only  was  it  applied  to  idiosyncracies  of  cha- 
racter, but  even  garters,  hat-lands  and  shoe-ties  had 
each  its  particular  'humor' — so  that  it  grew  to  be  a 
perfect  mania,  "bred,"  as  Ben  Jonson  tells  us,  "in 
the  special  galantry  of  our  time,  by  affectation,  and 
fed  by  folly." 

This  absurdity  Shakespeare  laughably  exposes,  in 
the  character  of  Nym,  whom  he  causes  to  discourse 
after  the  following  fashion : — 

"  Nym.  And  this  is  true  [To  Page].  I  like  not  the  humor  of 
lying.  He  hath  wronged  me  in  some  humors ;  I  should  have 
borne  the  humored  letter  to  her :  but  I  have  a  sword  and  it 
shah1  bite  upon  my  necessity.  He  loves  your  wife ;  there's  the 
short  and  the  long.  My  name  is  Corporal  Nym ;  I  speak  and  I 
avouch.  'Tis  true: — my  name  is  Nym,  and  Falstaff  loves  your 
wife. — Adieu  !  I  love  not  the  humor  of  bread  and  cheese ;  and 
there's  the  humor  of  it.  Adieu. 

Page.  The  humor  of  it,  quoth  'a!  here's  a  fellow  frights  humor 
out  of  its  wits." 

Merry  Wives  of  Windsor,  II.  1. 

Wherein  we  most  heartily  agree  with  Page ;  but 


Fancies  and  Fantastics.  163 

we  are  out  of  humor  with  the  wretched  affectation, 
and  can  only  exclaim,  with  honest  Ben  : 

"  But  that  a  rook,  by  wearing  a  py'd  feather, 
The  cable  hat-band,  or  the  three  pil'd  ruff, 
A  yard  of  shoe-tye,  or  the  Switzer's  knot 
On  his  French  garters,  should  affect  a  humour, 
0,  it  is  more  than  most  ridiculous  !" 

Induction  to  "Every  Han  out  of  his  Humour •" 

This  is  surely  the  very  depth  of  bathos  :  and  yet 
we  have  no  lack  of  parallel  terms  to  bear  it  company. 
Thus  the  verb  *  ACCOMMODATE  '  was,  about  the  same 
period,  lugged  into  discourse  on  every  proper  or  im- 
proper occasion — a  word  which,  by  the  way,  has,  in 
our  own  day,  become  again  popular  and  is  now  used 
almost  as  frequently,  and  quite  as  ineptly  as  of  yore. 
Nor  is  it  presumable  that  many  of  its  modern  abusers 
would  be  much  more  successful  in  defining  it,  in  its 
multifarious  applications,  than  was  their  grand  proto- 
type, Bardolph: 

"Accommodated;  that   is,  when    a  man  is,  as  they  say,  ac- 
commodated; or  when  a  man  is, — being, — whereby, — he  may  be 
thought  to  be — accommodated;  which  is  an  excellent  thing." 
Second  Part  of  Henry  IV.  III.  2. 

The  similarity  of  Ajax  to  a  jokes  furnished  the  wits 
of  Elizabeth's  reign  with  subject-matter  for  many  a 


164  Ramble  Seventh. 

wretched  pun,  and  gave  the  word  a  prodigious  popu 
larity,  as  we  may  see  from  the  contemporary  drama — 
ever  the  most  faithful  index  of  the  tides  of  popular 
feeling.  The  occasion  of  all  this  pleasantry  is  gene- 
rally ascribed  to  the  "Metamorphosis  of  Ajax" — a 
tract  published  by  Sir  John  Harrington,  in  which  he 
gave  an  account  of  a  novel  invention  .  .  .  but 
we  will  not  pursue  the  story  I* 

The  Stage  is  the  most  merciless  immolator  of  all 
fantastic  and  affected  terms — -just  as,  in  its  turn,  the 
Green-room  not  ^infrequently  succeeds  in  imposing 
some  of  its  own  cant  upon  us.  The  History  of 
Words,  Idioms  and  Phrases  that  have  thus  been 
damned  would  be  both  varied  and  instructive.  The 
usual  mode  is,  of  course,  to  take  up  the  affectation 
and  run  it  to  death,  and  at  the  same  time  so  to  inter- 
twine it  with  ludicrous  associations  that  its  use 

*  The  tract  was  entitled  "A  New  Discourse  of  a  State  Sub- 
ject, called  the  Metamorphosis  of  Ajax :"  and  though  the  cause 
of  many  jokes  to  others,  it  was  no  joking  to  Sir  John  himself; 
for  "  Good  Queen  Bess,"  whose  delicacy  was  offended,  banished 
him  from  her  sweet  presence  for  some  considerable  time ;  nay, 
it  is  said  he  only  escaped  a  star-chamber  inquisition  from  the 
Queen's  secret  attachment  to  him.  He  was  afterwards,  how- 
ever, recalled;  on  which  occasion  he  affectingly  describes  his 
emotions  as  being  those  of  "  Saint  Paul,  when  rapt  up  in  the 
third  Heaven!" 


Fancies  and  Fantastics.  165 

becomes  forthwith  more  than  hazardous.  So  was  it 
with  many  of  the  absurdities  ridiculed  by  Shakespeare 
and  his  cotemporaries — *  0  Lord,  sir,1  for  instance,  in 
All's  Well  that  End's  Well  Thus  was  it  also  with  the 
once  fashionable  phrase,  *  Egad  and  all  that ' — which, 
it  is  said,  the  Duke  of  Buckingham's  Rehearsal  suc- 
ceeded most  effectually  in  putting  an  end  to ;  while 
the  once  equally  favorite,  *  In  fine,  SirJ  met  a  violent 
death  at  the  hands  of  Dryden's  Sir  Martin.  And 
every  body  knows  how  poor  Thomson  fared  when 
his  pathetic  exclamation : 

"  0  Sophonisba !     Sophonisba  0 !" 

was,  by  some  wicked  wight,  travestied  and  repeated 
throughout  all  London  in  the  shape  of 

"  0  Jemie  Thomson  !     Jennie  Thomson  01" 
t 
But  these  popular  catch-words  and  phrases   are 

universal  in  their  rise  and  rule.  They  arise  whenever, 
and  at  whatever,  the  public  fancy  is  tickled  •  and  are 
not  without  their  own  suggestive  significance.  "  The 
most  unobserved  words  in  common  use  are  not  without 
fundamental  meanings,  however  contemptible  they  may 
appear  in  this  age  of  refinement,"  says  Pegge.*  Not 
at  all  to  be  slighted  or  despised,  but  worthy  of  most 

*  "Anecdotes  of  the  English  Language." 


166  Ramble  Seventh. 

diligent  investigation  are  these  rich,  ready-made 
idioms,  begotten  of  the  lusty  needs  of  the  times.  For 
they  prove  assuredly  more  conclusively  than  could 
aught  else,  that  no  living  Word  is  without  its  Logic 
and  its  Common  Sense, — even  though  this  Common 
Sense  be,  at  times,  of  a  very  wttcommon  kind,  and  the 
train  of  Logic  infinitely  free  and  varied  as  the  inform- 
ign  mind  whence  it  springs. 

Indeed  many  a  time  the  most  grotesque,  the  most 
fantastic  words  rest  on  a  richer  and  more  comprehen- 
sive insight  and  analogy  than  the  more  authoritative 
and  classic  part  of  speech.  The  popular  phrase  '  by 
hook  or  by  crook '  is  an  example  to  the  point,  having 
a  curious  genesis  in  the  old  forest  customs,  wherein 
persons  entitled  to  fire- wood,  in  the  king's  forest,  were 
only  authorised  to  take  of  the  dead  wood,  or  branches 
of  trees  in  the  forest,  "  with  a  cart,  a  hook,  and  a 
crook."  And  how  forcibly  transferred  thence  to  indi- 
cate gaining  one's  end  as  best  he  might.  The  phrase 
is  of  unknown  antiquity.  "Beastly  Skelton"  has 
this  illustration : 

"  Nor  will  suffer  this  boke 
By  hooJce  ne  by  crooJce 
Prynted  for  to  be."  Colin  Clout. 

The  seemingly  fantastic  '  HOKEY-MOON  '  is  said  to 


Fancies  and  Fantastics.  167 

owe  its  origin  to  a  custom  of  an  ancient  Germanic  peo- 
ple who  were  in  the  habit  of  drinking  mead  (in  which 
honey  was  mingled)  for  thirty  days  after  a  wedding 
took  place  ;  and  the  ludicrous  phrase  to  '  T\m-amuck  ' 
has  its  genesis  in  a  positive  ethnologic  fact :  the  fact, 
namely,  that  among  the  Malays,  a  species  of  frenzy  at 
times  seizes  individuals,  and  they  run  about  commit- 
ting indiscriminate  murder  (amuck}.  Johnson  derives 
the  expression  to  '  knock  under '  from  "  the  sub- 
mission expressed  among  good  fellows  by  knocking 
under  the  table,"  and  to  '•go  the  whole  hog '  is  claimed, 
by  an  etymology  I  will  not  warrant,  to  owe  its  origin 
to  a  practice  of  the  western  butchers  who  ask  their 
customer  whether  he  will  go  the  whole  hog  or  deal  only 
for  joints  or  portions  of  it ! 

Often  times,  too,  these  every-day,  bandied  words 
and  phrases  have  an  expressive  power  that  more  ele- 
gant substitutes  would  but  lamely  realize.  How 
significant,  for  instance,  are  'close-fisted,'  'mealy- 
mouthed,'  to  '  rule  the  roast,'  to  '  egg  on'  (to  anything), 
' hood- wink,'  '  quiz,'  the  '  hypoes,'  '  bamboozle,'  *  bal- 
derdash,' '  ink-horn '  terms,  '  fast '  boys,  '  rich '  stories. 
So  we  speak  of  one's  having  'brass'  or  'tin,'  or  of 
one's  being  in  a  'pickle;'  and  we  exclaim  'ginger!' 
and  we  speak  of  a  person  in  a  state  of  intoxication 
(which,  by  the  way,  is  related  in  its  very  origin  to 


1 68  Ramble  Seventh. 

poison — toxicum)  as  being  'tight,'  'tipsey,'  'boosy,' 
'  pot  valiant,'  'muddled,'  'fuddled,'  'fou,'  'corned,' 
'  half  seas  over,'  '  the  worse  for  liquor,'  '  drunk  as  a 
piper,'  or  as  having  a  '  brick  in  his  hat !'  And  how 
far  might  we  go  before  we  would  find  such  expres- 
sive symbols  as  '  blue-stocking '  (bos  bleu)  or  '  hail- 
fellow,'  or  'all  the  go,'  or  'catch-penny,'  or  'fire- 
eater,'  or  '  dead-letter,'  (a  term  which  the  Post  Office 
has  given  us?)  or  'chatter-box,'  or  'crusty,'  or 
'inuendo,'  (literally  a  nodding  at)  or  '  leg-bail,'  or  '  cut 
a  swell,'  or  'hobby,'  or  to  'palm,'  (anything  on  one), 
or  'luggage,'  which  is  just  something  lugged  about! 
Though  what  special  applicability  there  is  in  the  old 
phrase  '  honest  as  the  skin  between  the  brows','  it 
might  be  difficult  to  tell ;  and  equally  hard  to  tell  how 
the  phrase  to  '  sow  one's  wild  oats  '  arose,  and  why  it 
was  that  oats  should  have  been  selected  from  among 
grains  as  emblematic  of  the  dissipation  and  excess  of 
youth ;  while  to  '  curry  favor,'  smacks  quite  of  the 
stable ;  the  once  popular  exclamation,  '  Cry  you 
mercy,  I  took  you  for  a  joint  stool,'  seems  purely  fan- 
tastic, and  I  suppose  brandy  is  called  the  water  of  life, 
*  eau  de  vie,'  'aqua  vitae,'  '  usquebaugh,'  (for  they  all 
have  the  same  meaning)  according  to  the  law  of  lucus 
a  non — precisely  because  it  proves  in  so  many  cases 
the  water  of  death ! 


Fancies  and  Fantastics.  169 

There  is  another  class  of  fantastics  that  also  claims 
attention.  I  mean  such  as  have  been  formed  purely 
under  the  guidance  of  the  ear — rhyming  reduplicates, 
which  have  no  meaning  aside  from  what  the  mere 
sound  carries  with  it.  Such  are  *  bow-wow,'  '  chit- 
chat,' 'harum-scarum,'  'flim-flam,'  'helter-skelter,' 
'higgledy-piggledy,'  ' hodge-hodge,'  'hubbub,'  'hurly- 
burly,'  'rif-raff,'  'tip-top,'  'rub-a-dub,'  'slip-slop,' 
(exemplified  in  Mrs.  Malaprop  in  the  Rivals)  'tip- 
top I1* 

But  I  forget  to  mention  the  very  term  that  most 
perfectly  typifies  many  of  the  words  of  this  Ramble. 
I  mean  '  GROTESQUE.'  And  indeed  its  origin  is  grotes- 
que enough,  being  taken  from  certain  whimsical  figures 
found  in  the  subterranean  apartments — grottoes — in 
the  ancient  ruins  at  Rome,  and  thence  extended  to 
typify  aught  fantastic,  ludicrous,  or  irregularly  pro- 
portioned. Such  is  the  derivation  given  by  Benve- 
nuto  Cellini  in  his  Memoirs ;  and  as  I  have  the  pas- 
sage at  hand,  I  shall  quote  it :  "  These  foliages  have 
received  the  name  of  grotesque  from  the  moderns 
because  they  are  found  in  certain  caverns  in  Rome, 
which  in  ancient  days  were  chambers,  baths,  studies, 
halls  and  other  places  of  the  like  nature.  The  curious 

*  Notes  and  Queries,  vol.  viii. 


ijo  Ramble  Seventh. 

happened  to  discover  them  in  these  subterranean 
caverns  whose  low  situation  is  owing  to  the  raising 
of  the  surface  of  the  ground  in  a  series  of  ages, 
and  as  these  caverns  in  Rome  are  commonly  called 
grottoes,  they  from  them  acquire  the  name  of  gro- 
tesque." * 

And  numerous  are  the  other  words  of  equal  inter- 
est, in  which  the  workings  of  fairy  Fancy  may  be 
traced.  It  was  a  piece  of  phantasy,  for  instance,  to 
call  the  Roman  platform  for  orators  the  '  ROSTRUM,' 
from  the  fact  of  its  having  been  adorned  with  the 
beaks  (rostra)  or  heads  of  captured  ships,  and  I  remem- 
ber years  ago  feeling  great  pleasure  at  the  perception 
of  the  connection — fanciful  and  yet  faithful — of 
'  INCULCATE  '  with  calx,  the'  heel  (incuko,  to  tread  over 
again,  to  heel-it  over  again  and  hence  to  impress  by 
frequent  admonitions).  What  is  a  *  brown  study?' 
Is  it  a  barren  study,  or  is  it  allied  to  the  word  brow  ? 
Certainly  'etiquette'  is  just  the  ticket:  it  having  been- 
once  the  custom  to  get  out  cards  containing  orders  for 
regulating  ceremonies  on  public  occasions.  And 
1  COCKADE,'  'tis  said,  arose  during  the  wars  of  the 
Scotch  covenanters,  when  the  English  to  distinguish 

*  Memoirs  of  Benvenuto  Cellini,  a  Florentine  Artist^  written 
by  himself,  voL  I.  p.  65. 


Fancies  and  Fantastics.  171 

them  wore  a  black  rosette,  which  from  its  position, 
shape,  etc.,  the  Scotch  nicknamed  coc&'ade  !* 

But,  beneath  the  lowest  depth  of  vulgarity,  slang 
and  Billingsgate  a  lower  deep  opens  in  the  expressive 
power  of  speech.  For  without  the  pale  of  civiliza- 
tion, in  depths  where  not  even 

"  The  rarity 
Of  Christian  charity" 

penetrates,  live  brothers  of  ours,  and  children  are 
born  and  live  and  die  who  speak  not  even  the  lan- 
guage of  other  men  ;  but  a  speech  of  their  own — dark 
and  terrible  and  awfully  significant.  This  Cant 
Language,  or  Argot  we  have,  during  the  last  few 
years,  been  made  familiar  with  from  the  representa- 
tions of  popular  novels.  Eugene  Sue,  for  example, 
has  vividly  portrayed  the  Parisian  langue  des  escrocs 
— giving  us  an  insight  both  into  its  dark  and  its 
bright  side.  For  even  it,  'twould  seem,  has  its  lights 
— its  gleams  of  humanity — that  manifest  that  its 
authors  are  still  of  our  common  kind,  and  that  the 
germs  of  love  and  pity  and  hope  are  quite  absent 
from  no  mortal  breast.  * 

*  "  Cocarde,  toufie  de  rubans  que  sous  Louis  XIII.  on  por- 
tait  sur  le  feutre,  et  qui  imitait  la  crete  du  coq."  Roquefort, 
Dictionaire  etymologique. 


172  Ra-i;ble  Seventh. 

Puns  might  form  a  characteristic  and  amusing 
topic  for  investigation  under  the  Fantastic  in  Words, 
though  it  is  entirely  too  ample  a  theme  to  admit  of 
treatment  here,  approaching  as  I  am  towards  the  end 
of  this  Ramble.  Did  we  enter  into  the  subject  in 
extenso  we  should  assuredly  begin  with  classic  puns — 
Homer  and  the  sons  of  the  Tragic  Muse  having  not 
disdained  to  quip  and  quibble — lingering  over  the 
graves  of  some  of  Cicero's  most  successful  sallies 
(witness  that  wicked  one  on  the  Senator  who  was  a 
tailor's  son,  rem  acu  tetigisti — you  have  touched  the 
matter  sharply :  or,  with  the  point  of  a  needle)  I*  The 
archaeology  of  Puns  would  moreover  lead  us  to  pene- 
trate into  the  witticisms  of  the  severe  Milton — for 
even  in  Paradise  Lost  it  would  seem  he  punned  and 
that  horribly  enough  too.  And  then  we  should  dive 
into  the  abyss  profound  of  modern  puns  bringing  up 
what  pearls  might  offer  themselves :  and  so  should 
we  have  a  complete  history  and  philosophy  of  Puns 
and  Punsters. 

In  the  mean  time  I  shall  merely  mention  a  few 

*  D'Israeli's  "  Curiosities."  He  cites  Menage  as  saying :  "  I 
should  have  received  great  pleasure  to  have  conversed  with 
Cicero  had  I  li ved  in  his  time.  He  must  have  been  very  agree- 
able in  conversation,  since  even  Caesar  carefully  collected  his 
Ions  mots." 


Fancies  and  Fantastics.  173 

Etymologic  or  dead  puns  that  occur  to  me,  from 
Shakespeare. 

Johnson  asserts  that  a  quibble  was  to  Shakespeare 
the  fatal  Cleopatra  for  which  he  lost  the  world,  and 
was  content  to  lose  it.  This,  like  the  generality 
of  Johnsoniana,  has  considerable  truth,  with  a  vast 
deal  of  mere  burly  assertion  and  paradox  about  it. 
And  I  believe  the  question  of  Shakespeare's  quibbles 
is  now  pretty  much  at  rest. 

In  "As  You  Like  It,"  Touchstone,  the  clown  (and 
a  very  "material  fool,"  by  the  way),  says  to  Audrey : 
"  I  am  here  with  thee  and  thy  goats,  as  the  most 
capricious  poet,  honest  Ovid,  was  among  the  Goths." — 
As  You  Like  It,  III.  3. 

Here  the  play  of  words  between  Goats  and  Goths 
is  apparent  enough :  but  the  real  pith  and  marrow  of 
it  is  lost  unless  we  recognize  the  occult  pun  that  lurks 
in  the  term  'CAPRICIOUS' — the  etymon  of  it — Caper 
(whence,  I  suppose,  we  have  our  verb  to  '  caper  ' — 
signifying  a  he-goat.  This  seen,  the  allusion  becomes 
luminous. 

Addison  has  announced  that  a  pun  cannot  be  trans- 
lated. Literally,  perhaps  not.  And  yet  skill  and 
finesse  can  go  wonderfully  far  towards  a  perfect  render- 
ing :  for  a  proof  of  which  we  need  go  no  farther  than 
Schlegel's  Translation  of  Shakespeare,  wherein,  though, 


174  Ramble  Seventh. 

of  course,  times  innumerable  he  falls  infinitely  short,  he 
attempts,  at  least,  to  render  every  nuance  of  expression 
and  every  finesse  of  verbal  play.  That  they  are 
many  a  time  thin  and  ghostly  must  certainly  be 
admitted,  }^et  it  must  also  be  granted  that  his  Trans- 
lation is  an  example  of  what  diligence  can,  in  this 
direction,  perform. 

Puns  are  the  most  fickle  and  fragile  things  in  ex- 
istence. They  live  and  move  and  have  their  being 
in  chance.  Hence  it  is  not  at  all  to  be  wondered  at, 
should  they  many  a  time,  in  the  lapse  of  years,  perish 
through  neglect.  The  word  '  TAXDEM  '  shuts  up  a 
curious  practical  pun,  unrecognized  till  translated, 
and  here  is  an  example  from  the  mouth  of  that  mon- 
ster of  sin,  sack  and  sagacity — Sir  John  Falstaff : 

Chief  Justice.  You  follow  the  young  prince  up  and  down  like 
his  ill  angel. 

Falstaff.  Not  so,  my  lord ;  your  iU  angel  is  light ;  but  I  hope 
he  that  looks  upon  me  will  take  me  without  weighing ;  and  yet, 
in  some  respects,  I  grant,  I  cannot  go,  I  cannot  tell 

Second  Part  of  Henry  IV.  I.  2. 

Here  in  order  to  appreciate  the  pun  we  must  recol- 
lect that  an  'Angel'  was,  at  that  time,  the  name 
applied  to  a  coin,  worth  about  ten  shillings  (English) : 
the  quibble,  together  with  his  not  'going'  and  not 


Fancies  and  Fantastics.  175 

'telling'  (i.e.  not  passing  current,  not  standing  weight) 
then  becomes  luminous  with  meaning. 

So  do  words  fall  into  disuse,  and  are  cast  out  as 
worthless  and  witless  things.  And  this,  too,  in  their 
old  age,  after  a  life-time's  faithful  service  and  too 
frequent  abuse.  They  die  with  grief  to  see  mere 
parvenus  usurp  their  places — and  find  not  even  a 
champion  to  vindicate  their  cause  or  a  historian  to 
write  their  epitaph. 

Yet  sometimes  they  do  find  a  defender.  Pegge,* 
for  instance,  with  much  grave  humor,  pleads  the 
cause  of  "  Old,  unfortunate  and  discarded  words  and 
expressions,  which  are  turned  out  to  the  world  at 
large,  by  persons  of  education  (without  the  smallest 
protection),  and  acknowledged  only  by  the  humbler 
orders  of  mankind :  who  seem  charitably  to  respect 
them  as  decayed  gentlefolks  that  have  known  better 
days!" 

*  Anecdotes  of  the  English  Language. 


RAMBLE  EIGHTH. 

VERBAL  ETHICS. 

"  By  your  words  ye  shall  be  justified,  and  by  your  words 
shall  ye  be  condemned." 

SHALL  we  ascend  to  the  highest  statement  and  say 
that  in  Words  there  is  an  Ethical  element  also  ?  For 
ever  the  innermost  evolves  itself  and  becomes  the 
outermost;  and  surely  it  cannot  be  otherwise  than 
that  some  transcript  should  be  left  in  Words  of  the 
workings  of  that  ethical  Conscience  that  witnesses 
within  us  of  right  and  wrong.  Once,  we  know,  every 
term,  be  it  warped  in  its  meaning,  or  be  it  meaning- 
less, rushed  forth,  glowing  and  red  hot,  from  the  con- 
sciousness, laden  with  its  own  power  and  pathos — 
a  blessing  or  a  curse,  a  startling  metaphor  or  a  rich 
poetic  image. 

And  so,  too,  we  may  read  in  Words  the  moralities 
of  mankind.  They  are  the  decalogue  in  miniature — 
the  verdicts  pronounced  by  the  great  High  Court  of 
Humanity,  not  to  be  circumvented,  and  at  once  with- 
out precedent  and  without  repeal.  Oh !  not  unmind- 


Verbal  Ethics.  177 

ful  be  we  of  these  still  small  voices,  which,  from 
cavernous  depths,  whisper  to  the  willing  ear,  of 
human  frailty  and  of  human  power — which,  with  a 
certain  beautiful  scorn,  repel  all  meanness  and  igno- 
bility,  beckoning  with  alluring  smiles  to  crowns  and 
garlands  starry  and  unfading,  and  telling  of  thee, 

"  Stern  Daughter  of  the  voice  of  Glod, 
0  Duty !" 

It  may  be  interesting,  to  begin  with,  to  notice  the 
evidence  embalmed  in  Words  of  the  primitive  mo- 
rality of  mankind,  and  to  trace  the  development  of 
the  historical  conscience  in  its  ascent  to  absolute 
ethical  judgments.  Marvelous  are  these  vestiges  of 
the  spiritual  history  of  man ! 

The  law,  which,  in  early  times  regulated  the  notions 
of  guilt  and  innocence  would  not  appear  to  have  been 
very  rigid.  For  if  words  speak  truly  *  INNOCENCE  ' 
itself  merely  consists  in  the  not  doing  any  harm — 
in-nocens — or,  as  we  also  say,  '  harmless.'  It  is,  there- 
fore, a  negative,  not  a  positive  virtue.  '  GUILT  '  un- 
folds some  curious  historic  and  ethic  facts.  The 
Saxon  form  of  the  word  is  gylt* — signifying  both  a 

*  From  the  verb  gyldan,  to  pay.  By  the  way,  the  ancient 
'  guild '  is  also  formed  from  this  verb ;  since  each  member  of  the 
fraternity  was  obliged  to — gyldan—pay  something. 


178  Ramble  Eighth. 

crime  and  a  debt,  or  fine — the  latter,  however,  is  the 
primary  signification.  It  was,  in  fact,  a  fine,  or  remu- 
neration paid  by  a  person  ivho  had  committed  some 
offense;  and  then  this  fine  applied  to  the  crime  itself. 
The  person  was  brought  in — gyltig — guilty  of  so 
much,  that  is,  he  was  compelled  to  pay  so  much.* 
The  attachment  of  a  moral  idea  to  a  mere  business 
transaction  is  curiously  suggestive  of  many  things. 
And  by  the  way,  our  *  CRIME  ' — if  crimen  be  connected 
with  xpjvw — may  have  a  derivation  quite  analogous  to 
the  preceding.  It  is  instructive  also  to  note  that  the 
German  for  debt  and  sin  is  one  and  the  same  word — 
schuld;  and  thereby  hangs  a  pun  of  Jean  Paul 
Eichter's.  In  the  Flegeljahre,  the  reader  will  remem- 
ber the  following:  "  'The  count,'  said  one,  'with  his 
fortune,  marries  for  beauty  and  accomplishments 
only,  for  he  has  ten  times  more  money  than  the 
general  has  debts?'  'What  then,'  said  an  unmarried 
comedian,  who  always  played  the  father,  '  the  beloved 
is  charity  itself  and  covers  a  multitude  of — schulden — 
debts  [or  sins].'  "f 

A  not  uninteresting  comparison  might  be  instituted 
between  the  respective  codes  of  honor  of  different 

*  See  the    interpretation  of   the    expressions   'vare'  and 
'  wite '  hi  Fossil  Histories, 
t  Walt  and  Vult,  vol.  I.  194. 


Verbal  Ethics.  179 

peoples.  I  shall,  however,  merely  indicate  two :  The 
Frenchman's  'honest'  man — un  honnete  homme — im- 
plies a  person  who  tells  the  truth  ;  while  the  English- 
man clusters  all  his  ideas  of  honesty  around  the 
abstaining  from  stealing  I  '  VIRTUE'  to  the  ancient 
Eoman  meant  simply  physical  bravery — manliness; 
while  to  the  aesthetic  Italian  virtu  has  acquired  the 
signification  of  the  love  of  the  fine  arts.  And  it  is 
also  worth  noting  that '  VALOR  '  simply  means  worth — 
an  allusion  carried  out  in  worship,  as  we  have  before 
seen.  A  certain  degree  of  moderation  in  behavior — 
enough,  at  least,  to  keep  one  within  bounds — modus 
— the  word-forming  faculties  have  named  'MODEST.' 
Whatever  is  becoming  (decet)  they  call  'DECENCY.' 
And  what  is  above  all  seemly  and  graceful  in  walk 
and  conversation  is  affirmed,  both  truthfully  and 
beautifully,  to  be  '  DECOROUS  ' — that  which  is  as  a — 
decus — ornament  and  embellishment  to  all  the  other 
graces.  This  primary  meaning  of  the  word  we  can 
understand  from  the  old  verb  to  decore,  as  thus  : 

"  Which  church  he  decored  with  many  ornaments  and  edifices, 
especially  the  south  side  thereof." 

FuUer's  Worthies. 

When  a  person  desires  to  exact  a  degree  of  homage 
which  we  are  not  wont  (in-soleo)  to  render,  we  very 


180  Ramble  Eighth. 

properly  call  this  c  INSOLENCE  ' — though,  by  the  way, 
'  INSOLENT  '  did  not  at  first  carry  with  it  any  other 
idea  than  that  which  is  unusual.  As  for  example,  in 
the  following  passage  quoted  by  Eichardson : 

"  The  interpreter  of  Hans  Bloome  names  it  (Taenia)  the  top 
of  a  pillar,  but  very  insolently  [L  e.  very  unusually]  it  being 
indeed  that  small  fascia  part  of  the  Doric  architecture." 

Evelyn  on  Architects  and  Architecture. 

Chaucer  well  expounds  the  word  for  us : 

"  Insolent  is  he  that  despiseth  in  his  judgment  all  other  folk, 
as  in  regard  of  his  value,  of  his  conning,  of  his  speking,  and  of 
his  bering." 

The  Persones  Tale. 

1  INDOLENCE,'  again,  lets  us  into  a  rather  curious 
ethical  fact — the  composition  of  indokntia  being  in 
and  dolentia,  that  is  to  say  a  freedom  from  pain  !  Can 
it  be  that  this  circumstance  induces  and  implies  lazi- 
ness or  idleness  ?  What  a  curious  state  of  things  is 
it,  in  which  a  thoughtful  person  becomes  'pensive;' 
when  one  who  always  separates  the  truth — se  verus — • 
is  said  to  be  'severe;'  when  anything  shown  is  re- 
garded as  a  'monster;'  and  when  the  entire  notion  of 
'  convivial '  is  that  of  living  together  !  And  yet  is  not 


Verbal  Ethics.  181 

'comfort'  very  truly  that  wherewith  we  strengthen 
one  another?  So  an  'agreeable'  person  is  quite 
faithfully  one  who  is  suited — a  (noire)  gre — to  our 
disposition — a  man  after  one's  own  heart,  as  we  say. 
And  what  a  depth  of  meaning  is  there  in  the  fact  that 
'study'  is  literally  just  zeal;  while  'earnest'  and 
'  yearning '  are  one  word ! 

'  NOBLE  '  declares  itself  to  be  primarily  that  which 
is  known — noted — bruited  about :  so  it  would  appear 
that  language  takes  no  cognizance  of  hidden  worth, 
but  conceives  of  all  '  NOBILITY  '  merely  as  notoriety 
and  measures  all  talent  by  success.  And  so — even 
as  we  should  expect — '  MEAN  '  declares  itself  to  be 
that  which  appertains  to  the  mceneg — ol  tfoXXo/ — the 
many :  having  its  origin  among  the  ignobile  vulgus, 
unknown  and  so  not  at  all  '  NOBLE.' 

"  He  was  a  veray  parfit  gentil  knight." 

Chaucer. 

'  GENTIL  '  (gentle)  is  the  Latin  gentilis  from  gens,  a 
clan — and  so  pertaining  to  a  clan — 'CLANNISH,'  as 
the  Scotch  say.  This  is  the  primary  signification. 
The  transition  in  the  meaning  of  this  term— through 
which  it  has  passed  from  one  who  has  relation  to  some 
race  (a  '  HIDALGO,'  as  they  say  in  Spain,  that  is  a  son 
of  something  in  contradistinction  to  him  who  is  a  son 


182  Ramble  Eighth. 

of  nothing),  or  of  birth,*  as  we  say,  in  opposition  to 
him  who  is  of  no  'family,'  down  to  its  present  vague, 
indefinite  application  or  mis-application  —  might,  had 
we  opportunity  to  trace  it,  be  not  uninteresting  or 
unprofitable.  In  the  mean  time  take  the  following 
from  Froissart  : 

"  Il-y-avoit  un  Chevalier,  Capitaine  de  la  Yille  :  point  gentil 
liomme  n'  estoit  :  et  1'avoit  fait,  pour  sa  vaillance,  le  Roy  Edouard 
Chevalier." 

Chronicle  Y.  il 

And  there  are  other  words  that  point  the  same 
moral.  The  striking  analogy  between  kin  and  kind  is 
significant,  and  '  GENEROUS  '  primarily  means  simply 
of  birth.  Shakespeare  presents  an  example  of  its 
employment  in  this  its  primary  sense.  Thus  Des- 
demona  says  : 

"  How  now,  my  dear  Othello  ? 
Your  dinner,  and  the  generous  islanders 
By  you  invited,  do  attend  your  presence." 

Othello,  III.  2. 

Here  *  generous  '  necessarily  implies   (  noble  '  —  the 


*  If  '  Gens  '  is  from  gigno  (yt'ywo),  these  words  do,  in  the  last 
analysis,  all  merge  into  one  ;  while  the  divers  offshoots  —  '  Gen- 
tle,' '  Genteel,'  '  Gentile,'  etc.,  all  flow  from  one  fountain. 


Verbal  Ethics.  183 

islanders  of  birth.  And  more  of  the  same :  *  fame,' 
1  renown,'  '  reputation.'  '  KEPUTATION  '  is  simply 
what  one  is  reputed  (not  at  all  affecting  the  '  charac- 
ter,' which  is  the  seal  and  token  impressed  on  the  soul, 
organic  in  the  structure  of  one's  being :  and  so,  inde- 
pendent of  all  *  reputation.')  '  RENOWN  '  is,  as  we  see, 
just  th3  being  named  over  and  over — renomme,  and 
'  FAME  '  itself  (fama,  phemi,  to  speak)  is  but  the  being 
spoken  about,  idle  rumor,  surely  not  to  be  very 
ardently  coveted.  Here  is  one  of  Carlyle's  fiery 
fragments  that  lights  up  these  words  with  luminous 
meanings:  "So  fares  it  with  the  sons  of  Adam  in 
these  bewildered  epochs;  so,  from  the  first  opening 
of  his  eyes  in  this  world,  to  his  last  closing  of  them 
and  departure  hence,  speak,  speak,  0  speak ;  if  thou 
have  any  faculty,  speak  it,  or  thou  diest  and  it  is  no 
faculty !  So  in  universities,  and  all  manner  of  dames' 
and  other  schools,  of  the  very  highest  class  as  of  the 
very  lowest ;  and  Society  at  large,  when  we  enter 
there,  confirms  with  all  its  brilliant  review-articles 
snccessful  publications,  intellectual  tea-circles,  literary 
gazettes,  parliamentary  eloquences,  the  grand  lesson 
we  had.  Other  lesson,  in  fact,  we  have  none,  in  these 
times.  If  there  be  a  human  talent,  let  it  get  into  the 
tongue,  and  make  melody  with  that  organ.  The 
talent  that  can  say  nothing  for  itself,  what  is  it? 


184  Ramble  Eighth. 

Nothing;    or  a  thing  that  can  do  mere   drudgeries, 

and  at  best  make  money  by  railways."* 
y 

But  we  must  ascend  to  the  appreciation  of  the 
King-words  of  the  moral  world — of  Good  and  Bad, 
of  Truth  and  Eight  and  Wrong — spinal  expres- 
sions in  the  Ethical  utterance  of  man.  Of  *  GOOD  '  the 
derivations  are  very  varied.  Kichardson  thinks  it 
is  from  the  Saxon  verb  6Wian,  to  aid,  to  benefit. 
Skinner  prefers  to  deduce  it  from  the  Latin  gaudeo. 
Junius  asserts  it  is  from  the  Greek  u-ya6oi — an  opinion 
which  Donaldsonf  also  favors.  Webster  finds  the  pri- 
mary meaning  to  be  strong,  free,  large.  And  Home 
Tooke  assures  us  that  it  is  "  Ge-owed  perhaps  gowed, 
written  and  pronounced  Good,  which  the  Scotch  pro- 
nounce and  write  Crude"  This  is  vague  indeed :  but 
no  objection  can  be  made  to  his  derivation  of  'BAD7 
which  he  thus  evolves  with  his  wonted  sagacity  :  "To 
Bay,  i.e.  To  vilify,  to  bark  at,  to  reproach,  to  express 
horror,  hatred  and  defiance,  etc.  Bayed,  Seed,  i.e. 
Bay'd,  Ba'd,  abhorred,  hated,  defied,  i.e.  BAD."J 

'  EIGHT  '  is  no  other  than  rectum,  (regitum)  the  par- 

*  The  "Stump  Orator." 
t  New  Cratylus,  420  and  following. 

|  From  the  same  verbal  root  come  also  '  Bane '  and  '  Ban :' 
as  thus — Bay  en,  Bay'n,  Been,  written  BANE  j  To  ban,  to  curse. 


Verbal  Ethics.  185 

ticiple  of  the  Latin  verb  Regere  to  order,  to  command ! 
Whence  the  Italians  have  ritto,  and  from  Dirigere 
comes  Dritto  ;  whence  also  the  French  have  droit  (old 
French  droict).  '  EIGHT  '  then  is  just  what  is  ordered, 
commanded,  laid  down  in  the  laws  of  eternal  Justice, 
and  *  LAW  '  and  '  JUST  '  announce  precisely  the  same 
high  fact:  'JUST'  is  from  jubere,  jussum,  and  means 
the  commanded;  'LAW'  is  from  the  Saxon  verb  lecgan, 
and  implies  something  laid  down  as  a  rule  of  conduct. 
4  WKONG  '  is  the  past  participle  of  the  verb  wringan, 
to  wring,  and  means  wrung  or  wrested  from  the  right 
or  ordered  line  of  conduct.*  Wrung  was  formerly 
written  wrong :  of  this  many  certificates  present  them- 
selves in  our  elder  literature.  Thus 

"  When  your  ignorant  poetasters  have  got  acquainted  with  a 
strange  word,  they  never  rest  till  they  have  wrong  it  in." 

Ben  Jonson,  Cynthia's  Hevels. 

Or  thus  from  Chaucer, 

"  For  which  he  wept  and  wrong  his  honde, 
And  in  the  bedde  the  bloody  knyfe  he  fonde." 

Man  of  Lawes  Tale. 

*  Just  as  from  torquere  the  Italians  take  torto  and  the  French 
tort,  wrong.  Diversions  of  Purley. 


i86  Ramble  Eighth. 

Compare  with  'RIGHT'  and  'WRONG' — 'upright,' 
'  regular,'  '  rectitude,'  '  error,'  '  transgression '  '  tortu- 
ous.' 'Upright'  is  palpable  enough;  'regular'  is 
according  to  regula  or  rule,  and  therefore  according 
to  the  ordered.  '  Kectitude '  (rectum)  is  just  the  straight 
line — the  ordered  or  directed  one.  '  Error '  is  an  erring 
(erro) — a  wandering  from  this  straight  line  of  '  recti- 
tude.' '  Transgression '  (transgressum)  is  a  transgress- 
ing, a  going  beyond  this  ordered  line.  'Tortuous' 
(tort,  wrong)  has  also  relation  to  what  is  injurious  (in 
jurem  against  the-  law)  that  is  against  the  commanded, 
that  is  wrong. 

'MORAL'  and  'ETHICAL'  have  a  marvelous  genesis. 
Mores  in  Latin  means  customs  •  moralis,  the  customary: 
and  'ETHICAL'  is  precisely  the  same  word  with  a 
Greek  origin — ethikos,  ethos  !  On  which  words  read 
this  fiery  comment:  "Instead  of  shrieking  more,  it 
were  perhaps  edifying  to  remark,  on  the  other  side, 
what  a  singular  thing  customs  (in  Latin  mores)  are; 
and  how  fitly  the  virtue,  manhood,  or  worth,  that  is 
in  a  man,  is  called  his  morality  or  customariness.  Fell 
slaughter,  one  of  the  most  authentic  products  of  the 
pit,  you  would  say,  once  give  it  customs,  becomes 
war,  with  laws  of  war,  and  is  customary  and  moral 
enough ;  and  red  individuals  carry  the  tools  of  it  girt 
round  their  haunches  not  without  an  air  of  pride — 


Verbal  Ethics.  187 

which  do  thou  nowise  blame.  "While,  see !  so  long  as 
it  is  but  dressed  in  hodden  or  russet ;  and  revolution, 
less  frequent  than  war,  has  not  yet  got  its  laws  of 
revolution,  but  the  hodden  or  russet  individuals  are 
uncustomary — Oh,  shrieking,  beloved  brother  block- 
heads of  mankind,  let  us  close  those  wide  mouths  of 
ours ;  let  us  cease  shrieking,  and  begin  considering  I" 

Great,  good,  glorious  Carlyle!  forced  thyself,  by 
thy  longing  and  tameless  heart,  to  set  thyself  in  stern 
hostility  to  very  many  of  the  '  customs '  and  not  a 
few  of  the  *  moralities '  of  this  our  era — honest  to  the 
very  profundity  of  thy  great  heart,  yet  thereby  forced 
sometimes  to  appear  dishonest — the  wisest,  and  yet 
willing  to  be  to  many  a  stumbling-block  and  the 
foolishest — the  most  religious,  and  yet  compelled  to 
seem  the  most  sacrilegious !  with  what  Titanic  force 
dost  thou  wield  thy  '  winged  words,' — that  in  thy 
hands  split  oft  .with  bursting,  burning  meaning : 
bringing  them  up  in  their  primitive  truth-loving  and 
truth-telling  simplicity,  and  setting  them,  not  without 
a  certain  grave  sarcastic  smile,  over  against  their 
abuses  and  their  corruptions  and  their  twistings  to 
gild  a  falsehood  or  to  consecrate  a  lie — there  to  blazon 
in  immortal  scorn  human  hypocrisies  and  shams! 

And  '  TKUTH,'  too,  how  pregnant  its  meaning ! 
'TKUTH'  is  that  which  a  man  troweth,  thinketh, 


i88  Ramble  Eighth. 

firmly  believeth  :*  '  TRUE,'  or  trew  as  it  was  formerly 
written, 

("  A  bedrole  long  and  trew  he  reckoneth") 

is  that  which  is  trewed  or  firmly  believed!  Thus 
c  TRUTH  '  and  the  '  TRUE  '  suppose  humanity :  they 
express  man,  his  limitations,  struggles,  aspirations. 
For  how  possible  is  it  for  one  to  trow  what  is  not 
in  the  highest  translation  true  !  And  indeed  the  word 
primarily  carries  with  it  no  absolute  force — a  false 
truth,  that  is  a  false  opinion,  a  false  belief,  being  an 
expression  not  unfrequently  met  with  in  our  elder 
literature.  Thus 

"Many  a  fals  treuthe." 

Piers  Ploughman. 

But  here  it  is  that  the  marvel  and  miracle  of  lan- 
guage begin.  For  the  divine  influx,  working  on  the 
unfolding  Conscience  and  the  ascending  Spirituality 
of  man,  is  constantly  operating  to  elevate  and  ennoble 
words.  How  often  do  "Words,  through  the  inspira- 
tion that  is  breathed  into  them,  become  virtuous  and 
valorous  beyond  their  native  ability.  They  lend 

*  The  past  participle  of  the  verb  to  trow  was  formerly  writ- 
ten trew}  just  as  the  past  participle  of  know  is  written  knew. 


Verbal  Ethics.  189 

\ 

themselves  plastic  to  the  moulding  power  of  some- 
thing higher  than  human  Will,  For  man  cannot  free 
himself  from  God.  The  spell  of  divinity  is  on  him. 

"  The  hand  that  rounded  Peter's  dome, 
And  groaned  the  aisles  of  Christian  Rome, 
Wrought  in  a  sad  sincerity : 
Himself  from  God  he  could  not  free ; 
He  builded  better  than  he  knew, 
The  conscious  stone  to  beauty  grow  1" 

And  so,  through  these  Symbols  glimmer  hints  of 
deeper  meanings — sacred  suspicions  of  divinity — 
trailing  clouds  of  glory :  so  that 

"  We  stand, 

Adore  and  worship,  when  we  know  it  not; 
Pious  beyond  the  intention  of  our  thought, 
Devout  beyond  the  meaning  of  our  will." 

For  if  we  saw  that  '  Moral '  and  '  Ethical '  meant 
merely  the  customary  and  the  capricious,  yet  do  they 
bear  the  burden  of  something  stabler  by  far — of  laws 
in  the  depths  of  the  divine  consciousness  which  no 
caprice  creates  nor  custom  changes.  '  Truth '  but  im- 
plies that  which  each  man  troweth  or  believeth  for 
himself — and  so  would  seem  to  be  a  fickle  and  fanci- 
ful enough  affair :  '  virtue '  may  have  been  to  the  old 


190  Ramble  Eighth. 

warlike  Eoman  nothing  nobler  than  his  virtus  or 
ma?ilmess ;  to  the  art-enamored  Italian  his  virtu,  or 
dilettanteism,  and  to  the  eupeptic  Yankee  his  plenty 
of  pork  and  beans :  yet  is  there  a  '  TRUTH  '  that  has 
not  its  warranty  in  the  partial  views  of  this  man  or 
that,  but  which  firmly  plants  itself  on  the  Central  and 
the  Unconditioned ;  there  is  a  c  VIRTUE  '  which  is 
neither  Greek  nor  barbarian  nor  bond  nor  free — 

"  For  its  source  from  without  rises  never ;" 

but  which  is  inherent  in  the  very  build  of  the  world. 
There  is  oft  times  even  something  godlike  in  the 
contempt  with  which  words  themselves  look  down 
upon  all  meanness  and  littleness.  For,  if  they  be, 
alas,  all  too  frequently,  the  slaves  of  falsehood,  they 
are  none  the  less  many  a  time  the  first  and  final 
refuge  of  truth.  With  what  scorn,  for  example,  are 
1  VANITY  '  and  '  VAUNTING  '  viewed  when  we  perceive 
that  they  are  both  the  offspring  of  vanus,  empty,  and 
regard  them  in  their  true  character  as  mere  empti- 
ness !  How  perfect,  too,  is  the  sentence  we  pronounce 
whensoever  we  speak  of  a  '  MISER/  even  if  we  do 
not  always  recognize  that  we  just  characterize  him 
as  a  wretched,  a  miserable  one.  In  this  very  sense 
Shakespeare  and  Spenser  and  Sidney  many  a  time 
employ  it : 


Verbal  Ethics.  191 

"Decripit  miser!  base,  ignoble  wretch!" 

First  Part  of  Henry  VI.  V.  5. 

"  Do  not  yet  disdaine  to  carrie  with  thee  the  wofull  words  of  a 
miser  now  disparing." 

Arcadia,  p.  117. 

In  both  of  these  instances  the  word  has  no  connec- 
tion with  avarice — implying  simply  a  wretched  one. 
And  the  love  of  money  cannot  conceal  from  us  that 
it  is  at  least  a  very  '  SOKDID  '  thing ;  and  sordid  is  of 
a  base  enough  extraction — claiming  kinship  with 
sordes,  which  is  just  filth  I 

Indeed  there  often  lurks  in  words  a  sly  piece  of 
sarcasm  on  pettiness  or  paltriness  which  shows  that, 
how  much  soever  Society  may  be  sunk  in  inanity, 
they  will  yet  continue  to  speak  out  boldly  and  truth- 
fully. Might  one  not,  to  be  charitable,  admit  that 
those  mournful  mementoes  yclept  'DANDIES,'  are  in 
tjieir  very  name,  sufficiently  afflicted — when  we  re- 
flect that  though  it  be  French,  it  is  only  French  for  a 
ninny — dandin:  Webster  himself  denning  it  as  "a 
fop  ;  a  coxcomb ;  one  who  dresses  himself  like  a  doll 
and  who  carries  his  character  on  his  back!"  Again, 
how  significant  a  moral  is  enwrapt  in  the  fact  that 
'loose,'  'lose'  and  'loss'  are  all  from  one  root;  that 
'  sore  '  and  '  sorrow''  have  a  like  genesis.  Who  could 
wish  any  severer  punishment  on  a  '  PROFLIGATE  '  than 


192  Ramble  Eighth. 

that  he  is  one  whom  the  appellation  itself  declares  to 
be  dashed  to  the  ground — profligatus — utterly  broken 
and  abandoned!  And  how  fearfully  are  the  gnaw- 
ings  of  Conscience  which  attend  the  commission  of 
any  unmanliness  or  ungodliness  embodied  in  our 
1  REMORSE!' 

Thus  do  "Words  become  most  powerful  engines  in 
the  cause  of  truth — flails  with  which  shams  and  mean- 
nesses are  castigated.  On  this  head  De  Quincey 
discourses  wisely : 

"  The  word  humbug,  for  instance,  rests  upon  a  rich 
and  comprehensive  basis :  it  cannot  be  rendered  ade- 
quately, either  by  Grerman  or  by  Greek,  the  two 
richest  of  human  languages,  and  without  this  ex- 
pressive word  we  should  all  be  disarmed  for  one 
great  case,  continually  recurrent,  of  social  enormity. 
A  vast  mass  of  villany,  that  cannot  otherwise  be 
reached  by  legal  penalties  or  brought  within  the 
rhetoric  of  scorn,  would  go  at  large  with  absolute 
impunity  were  it  not  through  the  stern  Rhadaman- 
thean  aid  of  this  virtuous  and  inexorable  word."* 

*  HUMILITY  '  is  an  instructive  word,  claiming  kin- 
ship with  humus,  the  ground — a  lowly  enough  origin 
truly.  '  PROBITY,'  too,  is  just  what  has  been  probed, 

*  From  a  paper  on  "  Language." 


Verbal  Ethics.  793 

tried  and  found  good ;  *  IMPERTINENT  '  is  what  does 
not  pertain^  does  not  belong  to  the  occasion.  *  MISERY,' 
it  would  seem,  clusters  all  its  associations  around  the 
being  hated  (miser,  miseo?) — that  being  regarded  as 
the  worst  of  all  miseries.  And  how  full  of  signifi- 
cance is  the  term  '  HAPPY  !'  If  the  testimony  of  lan- 
guage is  to  be  received,  it  is  a  very  indefinite  affair 
indeed,  being  merely  the  abounding  in  haps  or  chances 
— not  mw-haps,  it  is  presumable :  and  yet  the  whole 
is  just  a  great  perhaps  !  For  thus  expounds  Paley  : 

"The  word  happy  is  a  relative  term;  in  strictness  any  condi- 
tion may  be  denominated  happy  in  which  the  amount  or  aggre- 
gate of  pleasure  exceeds  that  of  pain ;  and  the  degree  of  happi- 
ness depends  upon  the  quantity  of  the  excess." 

Moral  Philosophy,  book  I. 

O,  not  a  dead  letter,  these  living  statutes  of  "Words,  - 
but  glowing  and  palpitating,  laden  with  pathos  and 
power,  rich  with  the  tragedy  of  souls ! 

Profoundly  significant,  too,  is  it  to  muster  words 
with  reference  to  the  traces  of  the  workings  of  the 
hot  passion,  the  prejudice,  the  depravity,  shall  we 
say  ?  of  human  nature. 

Why,  for  instance,  should  a  judgment  beforehand  be 
with  us  always  a  'PREJUDICE,'  unless  it  be  that  we 
are  more  apt  to  judge  ill  than  well  ?  Why  cannot  a 

9 


194  Ramble  Eighth. 

man  be  spirited  and  courageous  without  converting 
the  disposition  into  '  ANIMOSITY  ?  What  causes  a 
'  cupidity '  in  the  -  way  of  benevolence  or  a  *  lust ' 
of  doing  good  to  sound  like  incongruities  or  down- 
right contradictions  ?  What  a  story  of  covetousness 
and  extortion  is  revealed  by  such  a  word  as  '  USUKY  ' 
— which  should  surely  be  called  abusury  at  once! 
Or,  again,  why  is  it  that  we  cannot  promulgate  any- 
thing with  reference  to  a  person,  without  forthwith 
falling  to  '  TRADUCE  '  him  ?  or  report  a  story  without 
becoming  *  TELL-TALES  ' — while  '  STORY  '  itself  is  now 
quite  synonymous  with  a  fib. 

Under  old  Eoman  rule  persons  who  were  set  free 
from  servitude— -f reed-men — were  called  libertini;  but 
does  that  authorize  us  to  convert  them  into  '  LIBER- 
TINES ' — or,  is  there  a  dark  -current  of  wickedness 
underflowing  all  this — must  liberty  degenerate  into 
license?  Mignon  in  French  and  mignone  in  Italian 
both  imply  a  darling -,  a  favorite  ;  but  since 

"  That  poor  man 
That  hangs  on  princes'  favors  " 

is  not  apt  to  be  over  scrupulous  touching  the  mode 
in  which  he  gains  these  favors,  it  gradually  came  by 
a  regular  process  of  degradation  to  bear  with  it  sll 
the  baseness  and  blackness  of  a  '  MINION  !'  If  pre- 


Verbal  Ethics.  195 

tense  and  presumption  be  not  all  too  rife,  as  well  now 
as  among  the  old  Hellenic  sages,  why  is  it  that  the 
appellation  of  a  wise  man  should  be  loaded  with  con- 
tempt— that  he  should  become  a  mere  mock  wise  man 
(which  is  the  foolishest  of  all) — a  mere  '  SOPHIST,'  and 
all  his  instructions  mere  '  SOPHISTRIES  ?'  And  in  our 
own  times  we  may  discern  the  same  principle  at  work 
— so  that  the  very  exercise  of  reason  we  are  fain  to 
stigmatize  as  '  RATIONALISM.'  It  would  seem  impossi- 
ble for  one  to  hold  an  opinion  without  converting  it 
into  a  'DOGMA,'  or  assert  one  without  becoming  'DOG- 
MATICAL;' to  be  habile  or  business-like  without  its 
merging  into  the  'PRAGMATICAL;'  and  I  know  not 
as  it  is  possible  to  advance  without  being  '  FORWARD  !' 
The  original  signification  of  '  OFFICIOUS  '  we  know 
to  have  been  merely  dutiful,  attentive — full  of  offices. 
Thus  I  find  in  Dr.  Johnson's  poem  on  his  servant, 
Levett : 

"  Well  tried  through  many  a  varying  year, 
See  Levett  to  the  grave  descend  ; 
Officious,  innocent,  sincere, 
Of  every  friendless  name  the  friend  !" 

But  how  different  its  present  application !  Why  is 
it  that  we  convert  &  feeling  over  again  into  a  '  RESENT- 
MENT;' that  we  cannot  turn  the  mind  to  (animadverto) 


196  Ramble  Eighth. 

a  person  or  thing,  without  'ANIMADVERTING'  thereon, 
or  have  a  conception  without  getting  into  '  CONCEIT  ' 
with  it?  while  even  the  sacred  and  the  holy  will 
degenerate  into  the  merely  '  SANCTIMONIOUS!' 

"What  a  tale  of  strength  abused  does  '  robustious ' 
tell  us ;  and  what  a  history  of  pettifogging  do  *  CUN- 
NING '  and  '  CRAFTY  '  tell ! — '  CRAFTY  '  which  is  pro- 
perly just  skillful,  powerful,  '  artful '  (only  that  that 
also  has  gone  the  same  way);  and  *  CUNNING  '  which, 
at  first  was  simply — connan — kenning — knowing:  but, 
indeed,  I  despair  of  defining  the  word,  since  almost 
every  analogue  that  can  be  enumerated  has  been 
equally  debased  :  for  what  does  a  '  knowing '  fellow 
mean  but  an  artful,  *  designing  '*  fellow  ?  A  simi- 
lar and  even  sadder  debasement  is  observable  in  the 
word  '  SENSUAL,'  which  as  we  have  before  seen, 
strictly  signifies  simply  that  which  pertains  to  the 
senses — sensualis — but  which  has  so  completely  taken 
possession  of  and  fortified  itself  within  the  corrupt 
acceptation  that  we  are  fain  to  invent  '  SENSUOUS  '  to 
supply  its  place.  Surely,  surely,  Dan  Chaucer 
spake  rightly — 

"  To  don  sinne  is  mannish  !"f 

*  Certain  it  is  that  his  '  designs '  will  be  lad. 
t  Take  in  addition,  such  examples  as  'MENIAL,'  'NIGGARD, 
'PIETIST,'  'TAX/  'TRAITOR,'  'TREASON,'  'SEMBLANT,'  'PERJURE,' etc. 


Verbal  Ethics. 

We  find  at  once  our  compensation 
lation  in  scrutinizing  to  the  bottom  the  abyss, 
and  bottomless  though  it  may  seem.  For  soon  light 
begins  to  blend  with  the  shade,  aurora-streaks  of  hope 
become  visible  and  the  white  butterflies  of  Love  flut- 
ter gaily  in  the  ruddy  sunlight.  For  if  it  be  in 
reality  that  there  is  nothing  totally  bad — if  our  Life- 
tree  bear  on  its  boughs  at  once  the  blossoms  of  Good 
and  Evil;  so,  while  we  find  in  language,  traces  of 
baseness  and  corruption — if  words  appear  subservient 
_to  everything  that  is  mean  and  contemptible,  they  also 
lend  themselves  graciously,  and,  as  it  were,  with  a 
greater  good  will,  to  keep  or  carry  sentiments  of 
Love,  of  Peace,  of  Hope,  of  Benevolence,  of  Nobility ; 
and  the  same  breath  that  festers  into  a  curse  can 
beautifully  mould  itself  into  a  heaven-born  aspiration 
and  become  the  swift-footed  and  winged  messenger  of 
truth  and  benignity ! 

What  is  '  DUTY  ?'  Is  it  not  evidently  what  a  man 
owes  (devoir,  du) — all  that  is  due  from  him  to  himself 
and  to  others.  High,  clear  above  us  sounds  the  voice 
of  the  dread  eternal  Nemesis — unflinching,  exacting, 
with  trumpet-tones  demanding  "What  thou  owest!" 

"  Stern  Lawgiver !  yet  thou  dost  wear 
The  Godhead's  most  benignant  grace; 


198  Ramble  Eighth. 

Nor  know  we  anything  so  fair 

As  is  the  smile  upon  thy  face : 
Flowers  laugh  before  thee  on  their  beds, 
And  fragrance  in  thy  footing  treads ; 
Thou  dost  preserve  the  stars  from  wrong ; 
And    the   most    ancient  heavens,  through  Thee,    are 
fresh  and  strong."* 

How  severe  and  stately  is  '  MANLY,'  which  is  just 
man-like :  how  noble,  how  compensating !  It  strength- 
ens our  faith  in  human  nature !  And  so,  like  to  a  fair 
lily,  springing  up  amid  carnage  and  corruption  comes 
such  a  word  as  '  CEEDIT' — which  is  just  the — credit-urn 
— the  belief,  or  '  trust '  we  have  in  the  honor  and  good 
faith  of  our  fellows.  So  that  even  all  the  truckling 
and  prevarication  of  commerce  and  politics  cannot 
conceal  from  us  that  there  is  still  among  men  a  great 
'credit'  or  trust  system  ;  that  we  have  not  yet  lost  all 
faith  in  each  other,  in  spite  of  all  failures ! 

If  there  are  those  that  are  'MALEVOLENT'  or  ill- 
willed,  have  we  not,  also,  the  '  BENEVOLENT,'  or  those 
that  wish  us  well ;  and,  if  there  be  man-haters — '  MIS- 
ANTHKO FISTS,'  be  there  not  also,  man-lovers — '  PHIL- 
ANTHROPISTS ?' — the  good  making  up  for  the  evil ; 
the  bad  pole  of  existence  balanced  by  the  opposite 
good  pole.  In  fine  what  could  be  more  beautiful  than 

*  Wordsworth :  Ode  to  Duty. 


Verbal  Ethics.  199 

those  two  words — 'COMPASSION'  and  'SYMPATHY' — 
both  of  which,  imply  a  fellow-suffering — a  fellow- 
feeling — and  which  sound  forth  here  with  the  soft, 
wailing  melody  of  an  infinite,  world-embracing  pity  ? 
Thus  teach  they  us  that,  while  from  our  lone  Yalley 
of  the  Shadow  of  Death  ascendeth  ever  to  heaven  the 
tear-steeped  tones  of  mankind's  miserere — like  to  the 
"infinite  inarticulate  grief  and  weeping  of  forsaken 
children:"  yet  are  we  not  utterly  orphaned  and 
alone ;  but  still  in  unison  with  our  sorrows  tremble 
ever  the  sympathizing  tones  of 

"The  slow,  sad  music  of  humanity." 

And  are  we  not  sure  that  every  one  of  our  pangs  is 
known  and  felt  by  Him  whose  Heart  is  a  Heart  of 
Compassion  ? 


RAMBLE  NINTH. 

MEDALS  IN  NAMES. 
"  Omnibus  est  nomen,  sed  non  idem  omnibus  omen." 

"WHAT'S  in  a  name?",  asks  Juliet,  powerfully 
affected  by  the  thought  that  that  which  we  appellate 
a  rose,  by  any  other  cognomen  would  possess  the 
property  of  titillating  the  olfactory  in  an  equally 
dulcet  manner. 

In  all  seriousness,  much  and  much  is  in  a  name. 
That  Quaker  individual  understood  its  power  when 
he  threatened  the  canine  quadruped  with  condign 
visitation,  and  suggested,  "  I  will  not  kill  thee,  but  I 
will  give  thee  a  bad  name  /" 

The  lordship  of  Names  is  the  most  absolute  and 
universal  in  the  realm  of  human  tyrannies.  '  Never 
was  autocrat  half  so  despotic  as  those  airy  kings  that 
lord  it  over  man's  thought.  Of  how  many  million 
toiling  brains  is  it  the  ambition  merely  to  make  a 


Medals  in  Names.  201 

name ;  and  Boderigo  felt  that,  robbed  of  his  *  good 
,  name,'  he  was  c  poor  indeed  !' 

What  comes  so  close  to  man  or  woman  as  his  or 
her  Name?  Next  to  the  sweet  consciousness  of 
identity,  of  this  "pleasing,  anxious  being "  is  the 
marvel  and  mystery  of  one's  Name.  The  tragedy  of 
tragedies  is  in  a  Name.  To  what  thrilling  realiza- 
tions may  it  lift — raising 

"  Beyond  the  reaches  of  the  soul." 

Names  of  home — the  sacred  names  of  mother  and 
sister  and  wife — the  sweet  idyl  of  the  names  of  children 
— the  clustering  association^  of  the  names  of  the  troop 
of  amis !  Names  of  bards,  benefactors,  martyrs,  dear 
to  the  heart  of  the  world — Names  of  the  primeval 
supremes,  of  the  founders  of  the  antique  Keligions : 
Brama,  Osiris,  Zoroaster,  Prometheus,  Orpheus,  Jove ! 
The  execrated  names  of  tyrants  and  oppressors — 
names  uttered  with  compressed  lips — names  of  war- 
riors and  conquerors  writing  their  fiery  legends  on 
man's  mind  as  the  lightning  writes  on  rocks! 
Names  of  the  dead — names  embalmed — tombs  in  a 
battle-field,  o'ergrown  with  grasses  and  flowers  I 

Of  the  suggestions  from  names  none  are  more  sig- 
nificant than  such  as  arise  from  a  mustering  of  names 


2O2  Ramble  Ninth. 

that  have  been  lifted  out  of  their  appellative  import 
and  incorporated  as  common  nouns — nomina  realm — 
in  our  language.  This  interesting  class  of  words  is 
quite  numerous :  I  shall  mention  such  as  occur  to  me 
just  now. 

And  here  one's  associations  of  the  antique  come  in 
and  suggest  such  examples  as  '  TANTALIZE,'  from 
Tantalus,  whose  dreadful  punishment  it  was  to  be 
continually  in  sight  of  water  etc.  and  yet  never 
allowed  a  drop  thereof;  Hermes,  primeval  chemist, 
has  given  us  'HERMETIC;'  Hercules  has  given  us 
'HERCULEAN'  and  Academus  'ACADEMY;'  then,  Gor- 
dius,  the  Phrygian  king,  has  left  us  the  legacy  of  that 
famous  '  GORDIAN  '  knot ;  Mausolus  is  immortal  in 
his  'MAUSOLEUM;'  Epicurus  survives  in  'EPICURE,' 
and  Demosthenes  thunders  still  and  '  fulmines  over 
Greece '  in  ' PHILIPPIC.'  And  more:  'PROMETHEAN,' 
'PLATONIC,'  'BACCHANALIAN'  are  palpable;  Atlas, 
on  whose  shoulders  rested  the  pillars  of  heaven,  has 
given  us  '  ATLAS  ;'  a  '  VOLCANO  '  claims  kinship  with 
Yulcan ;  '  OCEAN  '  is  quite  as  plainly  very  closely 
allied  to  Oceanus,  and  does  not  the  god  Terminus 
stand  watcher  over  every  one  of  our  railroad  stations? 
But  to  come  to  more  modern  contributions.  '  GAL- 
VANISM' and  'MESMERISM'  are  palpable  enough — 
being  merely  the  ism  devised  by  Galvani  and  Mes- 


Medals  in  Names.  203 

mer.  Macadam  Las  given  us  to  'MACADAMIZE;' 
Mackintosh  has  left  his  name  to  a  coat,  and  Lord 
Spencer  to  the  '  SPENCER.'  Was  the  '  NEGUS  '  first 
compounded,  as  is  asserted,  by  a  Colonel  Negus? 
We  certainly  know  that  Lord  Sandwich  has  left  his 
name  to  slices  of  bread  and  meat — c  SANDWICH.' 
The  associations  we  call  'TONTINE'  were  first  con- 
ceived by  a  Neapolitan  named  Tonti ;  Dahl,  a  Swede, 
introduced  the  cultivation  of  the  '  DAHLIA,'  and  Lord 
Orrery  was  the  first  for  whom  an  'ORRERY'  was 
made. 

The  same  law  in  the  formation  of  words  is  fre- 
quently found  in  the  genesis  of  terms  that  have 
acquired  a  degree  of  opprobrious  or  abusive  significa- 
tion. And  often  do  words  thus  formed  do  sad  injus- 
tice to  their  sires.  Thus  Duns  Scotus,  that  subtilest 
of  schoolmen,  survives  only  in  the  shape  of  a  l  DUNCE  ;' 
while  Hector,  son  of  Priam — a  man  who,  it  is  said, 
united 

"  The  mildest  manners  with  the  bravest  mind  " — 

has  received  a  maligned  immortality  in  our  verb  '  To 
Hector1  and  a  hectoring  fellow,  which  is  just  a  "blus- 
tering, turbulent,  noisy  fellow!"  Rodomont — that 
celebrated  hero  in  Ariosto — has  lent  us  several  words. 


204  Ramble  Ninth. 

The  name  itself  "rodomont"  we  take  to  designate  a 
vaporing  bully  and  boaster ;  and  the  very  sublimation 
of  empty  bluster  and  rant  we  express  by  'rodo- 
montade.' 

1  FUDGE  '  is  a  curious  word,  having  a  positive  per- 
sonality underlying  it.  Such  at  least  is  it,  if  D'Israeli's 
account  thereof  be  authentic.  He  quotes  from  a 
pamphlet  published  at  the  beginning  of  the  Eighteenth 
Century,  entitled  "Kemarks  upon  the  Navy,"  the 
author  of  which  says:  "There  was,  sir,  in  our  time, 
one  Captain  Fudge,  commander  of  a  merchantman, 
who  upon  his  return  from  a  voyage,  how  ill  fraught 
soever  his  ship  was,  always  brought  home  his  owners 
a  good  cargo  of  lies ;  so  much  that  now,  aboard  ship, 
the  sailors,  when  they  hear  a  great  lie  told,  cry  out, 
4 You  fudge  it!'" 

The  term  (  CHOUSE,'  a  word  which  one  used  to  hear 
on  the  lips  of  youngsters,  has  a  similar  fantastic  gene- 
sis in  the  Turkish  name  for  interpreter — chiaous.  It 
was  a  person  holding  this  office  in  the  Turkish,  em- 
bassy in  England,  and  who  in  the  early  part  of  the 
Seventeenth  century  committed  an  enormous  fraud 
on  the  Oriental  merchants  resident  in  London,  that 
gave  rise  to  this  appellation  as  the  designation  for  any 
huge  piece  of  swindling.  And  Yerstegan  traces 
'  RIBALD  '  to  an  analogous  origin — a  derivation  we  are 


Medals  in  Names.  205 

forced  to  hold  by  somewhat  freely,  but  which  none 
the  less  excellently  illustrates  the  principle  now  under 
exemplification.  But  let  him  speak  for  himself. 

"  This  word  was  at  first  Eabad  as  yet  in  the  Nether- 
lands it  is  used,  wherehence  both  wee  and  the  French 
having  taken  the  name,  have  somewhat  varied  it  both 
in  ortography  and  sence.  It  was  the  proper  name 
of  Eabad — a  heathen  king  of  Friesland,  which  being 
instructed  in  the  faith  of  Christ,  by  the  godly  Bishop 
Ulfrau  faithfully  promised  to  be  baptized,  and  ap- 
pointed the  time  and  place :  where  being  come,  and 
standing  in  the  water,  hee  asked  of  the  Bishop  where 
all  his  forefathers  were  that  in  former  ages  were  de- 
ceased? the  Bishop  answered,  that  dying  without 
the  true  knowledge  of  God  etc.  they  were  in  hell, 
then  quoth  Kabad,  I  hold  it  better  and  more  praise- 
worthy to  go  with  the  greater  multitude  to  hell,  then 
with  your  few  Christians  to  heaven ;  and  therewith- 
all  he  went  out  of  the  water  unchristened  [that  is  not 
brought  over  to  the  faith  of  Christ:  to  'christen' 
being  just  to  Christ-en] ;  and  returned  both  to  his 
wonted  idolatry  and  to  his  evil  lyf,  notwithstanding 
the  good  admonitions  of  the  Bishop,  and  an  evident 
miracle,  which  (through  the  power  *of  God)  the  said 
Bishop  wrought,  even  in  his  own  presence.  Hee  was 
afterwards  surprised  [literally  sur-prised  i.  e.  over-taken] 


206  Ramble  Ninth. 

with  a  suddaine  and  improvyded  [i.  e.  unforeseen] 
death,  about  the  year  of  our  Lord  720,  and  his  very 
name  became  so  odious  through  his  wickedness,  that 
it  grew  to  bee  a  tytle  of  reproche  and  shame,  and 
hath  so  continued  ever  since."* 

And  the  contributions  from  proper  names  are  not 
exhausted.  Into  what  an  unenviable  notoriety  has 
the  Trojan  Pandarus  been  taken  up  in  our  term  to 
1  PANDER ;.'  and  what  centuries  of  political  finesse  are 
summed  up  in  *  MACHIAVELISM  ' — offspring  of  that 
subtle  Italian  brain  !  One  would  not  desire  to  share 
the  fate  of  Dr.  Guillotin  and  father  such  a  word  as 
'  GUILLOTINE.'  So,  Solomon  is  a  common  nickname 
for  a  blockhead  ;  Cervantes  has  made  ' QUIXOTIC'  an 
epithet  of  universal  significance,  and  our  rich,  rough 
New  York  life  has  erected  *  MOSE  '  into  a  type  of 
character  which  no  other  term  could  convey  with 
equal  directness  and  force.  '  JESUIT  '  is  another  word 
of  kindred  genus.  Its  history  too  is  important.  It 
was,  we  know,  the  name  given  to  the  order  instituted 
by  Ignatius  Loyola,  in  1534.  This  order  was  called 
the  Society  of  Jesus — and  the  members  thereof  'Jesuits.' 
So  much  for  the  origin  of  the  word.  And  now  when 
we  look  in  our  dictionaries  and  find  '  Jesuit '  synony- 

*  Restitution  of  Decayed  Intelligence,  337. 


Medals  in  Names.  207 

mous  with  crafty  intriguer,  and  see  *  Jesuitical '  defined 
as  l  designing  ;  cunning ;  deceitful ;  prevaricating,' 
who  could  be  persuaded  that  these  are  the  character- 
istics and  these  the  followers  of  that  meek  and  lowly 
Jesus,  in  whose  mouth  no  guile  was  found  ? 

The  American  contributions  to  this  class  of  words 
have  been  by  no  means  scanty.  Indeed,  is  it  not 
natural  that  a  people  so  prolific  as  tire  we  in  isms 
should  leave  a  pretty  large  verbal  precipitate  ? 
'  JRowey-'kmfe '  is  a.  familiar  example  of  this  kind. 
'LYNCHING'  smacks  of  the  rude,  lawless  Western 
and  Southern  life,  where  immortal  Lynch  presides; 
while  Barnum  will  live  in  his  name  and  his  ism,  long 
after  the  '  happy  family '  shall  have  had  its  quietus, 
and  the  portals  of  the  memorable  '  Temple  of 
the  Moral  Drama '  shall  have  been  closed  for 
ever! 

Sometimes,  too,  this  process  of  word-building  leads 
into  fantastic  snatches  of  life  and  thought.  The  word 
(  PASQUIN  '  is  an  example  to  the  point  having  an  ex- 
ceedingly curious  origin.  The  word  was  applied  to 
a  mutilated  statue  at  Rome,  in  a  corner  of  the  palace 
Ursini,  so  called  from  a  cobbler  of  the  name  of  Pas- 
quin  who  was  remarkable  for  his  sneers  and  gibes, 
and  near  whose  shop  the  statue  was  dug  up.  On  this 
statue  it  has  been  customary  to  paste  satiric  papers. 


208  Ramble  Ninth. 

Hence,  a  lampoon.*  In  reading  the  elder  Dramatists 
one  very  often  lights  upon  the  expressions  '  Cain- 
colored '  and  *  Judos-colored  ' — forms  which  might  be 
apt  to  puzzle  us,  did  we  not  remember  that  all  legends 
ascribe  red  hair  and  beards  to  both  Cain  and  Judas; 
and,  indeed,  the  aversion  which  our  ancestors  had  for 
red  or  yellow  hair  was  only  less  violent  than  the 
odium  IheoIogicUm — so  violent  was  it  that  they  even 
favored  the  de'il  himself  with  the  attribute.  To  what 
is  this  owing  ?  Had  its  association  with  the  Danes, 
whom  Alfred  calls  the  Heathen  Folk,  anything  to  do 
with  the  prejudice? 

"What  a  profound  significance  frequently  attaches 
to  national  names !  What  a  host  of  ideas,  for  exam- 
ple, cluster  around  the  '  SAXOXS  ' — especially  if  we 
derive  the  name  from  seax,  a  sword :  and  so,  the  men 
of  the  sword !  Eeadily  can  we  understand  how,  with 
sword  in  hand,  they  became  invincible  in  arms — 
driving  all  before  them ;  and  appreciate  how  those 
terrible  Vikings,  with  their  awful  '  berserkir  rage ' 
spread  dread  and  destruction  all  around  the  coasts 
which  they  haunted ;  and  by  the  terror  of  their  name, 
compelled  the  Gauls  to  intercalate,  into  their  litany, 
a  new  petition :  "  A  furore  Normannorum,  libera  nos, 

*  Encyclopaedia  Americana. 


Medals  in  Names.  209 

Domine !"  Deliver  us,  0  Lord,  from  the  fury  of  the 
Northmen!  For  how  could  it  be  otherwise  than 
that  men  who  affected  such  grim  appellations  as 
'BLOODY- AXE,'  ' SKULL-CLEAVER,'  'DEATH'S  HEAD' 
— and  whose  deeds  did  not  belie  their  names,  should 
inspire  a  natural  horror?  So  with  the  'PiCTS,'  the 
original  (Welsh)  forms  of  which  Yerstegan  affirms  to 
be  Phictian  i.e.  fighters;  and  the  '  SCOTS'  which, 
according  to  the  same  authority,  comes  from  the  Teu- 
tonic verb  scytan — to  slioot. 

On  the  word  '  SLAVE  '  Gibbon,  in  the  Fifty-fifth 
Chapter  of  the  "Decline  and  Fall,"  has  a  pungent 
passage  which  I  shall  quote  here  as  altogether  per- 
tinent. "  The  unquestionable  evidence  of  Language 
attests  the  descent  of  the  Bulgarians  from  the  original 
stock  of  the  Sclavonic,  or  more  properly  Slavonic 
race:  and  the  kindred  tribes  of  Servians,  Bisneans, 
Rasivians,  Croatians,  Walachians  etc.,  followed  either 
the  standard  or  the  example  of  the  leading  tribe. 
From  the  Euxine  to  the  Adriatic,  in  the  state  of 
Captives,  or  Subjects,  or  Allies,  or  Enemies,  in  the 
Greek  Empire,  they  overspread  the  land ;  and  the 
national  appellation  of  the  SLAVES  has  been  degraded 
by  chance  or  malice  from  the  signification  of  glory  to 
that  of  servitude."* 

*  "  Decline  and  Fall  of  the  Roman  Empire,"  Vol.  VII.  Chap. 


210  Ramble  Ninth. 

A  mere  chance,  then,  a  mere  mishap  in  war  has 
given  us  the  appellation  of  'SLAVE;'  and  those  old 
Slavic  tribes,  subdued,  stolen  and  sold,  have  immor- 
talized their  name,  and  within  it  embalmed  the  record 
of  mankind's  infamy. 

We  are  not  without  analogues  to  this  same  mode  of 
procedure.  Thus  the  '  HELOTS,'  among  the  Greeks, 
were,  it  is  asserted,  simply  the  Ei'Xwrf^  —  that  is,  the 


55.  In  a  note  to  the  above  he  says:  "Jordan  subscribes  to  the 
well-known  and  probable  derivation  from  slava,  laws,  gloria,  and 
which  forms  the  termination  of  the  most  illustrious  names  (De 
Originibus  Sclavonicis  Pars  I.  p.  40  ;  pars  IV.  p.  101,  102)." 

An  example  of  the  employment  of  this  word  slava,  glory, 
occurs  in  Suwarrow's  letter  to  the  Empress  Katharine  on  the 
taking  of  Ismael,  wherein  he  exclaims  : 

"  Slava  Bogu  !  slava  vam  ! 
Krepost  vzata,  y  ia  tarn." 
Glory  to  God  ;  glory  to  thee  ! 
The  fortress  is  taken  and  I  am  there. 

The  correctness  of  this  derivation  has,  however,  latterly  been 
called  in  question  by  some  philologers.  Anent  which  take  the 
following  from  Talvi's  "  Literature  of  the  Slavic  Nations." 
"  The  name  of  the  slavi  has  generally  been  derived  from  slava, 
glory,  and  their  national  feelings  have  of  course  been  gratified 
by  this  derivation.  But  the  more  immediate  origin  of  the 
appellation  is  to  be  sought  in  the  word  Slovo,  word,  speech,"  etc. 

Lit.  of  Slav.  Nat.  p.  2,  3,  note. 


Medals  in  Names.  21 1 

dwellers  in  Helos — a  town  in  Laconia — to  whom, 
perchance,  a  similar  mishap  arrived :  and  so  *  HELOT  ' 
came  to  be  used  in  precisely  the  sense  in  which  we 
employ  '  SLAVE.' 

It  by  no  means  unfrequently  occurs  that  national 
names  thus  become  the  type  of  particular  qualities, 
or  characteristics,  or  dispositions.  Thus  the  Franks 
give  us  our  adjective  '  FRANK,'  with  the  French 
*  franc '  whence  is,  perhaps,  also,  our  English  *  FREE.' 
If  so,  then  both  c  SLAVE  '  and  '  FREE  '  have  their 
origin  in  national  appellations.  The  Greeks  have 
always  been  regarded  as  a  jolly,  luxurious  race :  so 
much  so,  that  the  Latins  employed  the  verb  Grcecari 
(lit.  to  play  the  Greek)  to  designate  fine  living  and  free 
potations,  a  sense  in  which  Horace  frequently  uses  it ; 
while  Shakespeare  often  mentions  the  '  merry  Greeks,' 
and,  even  in  England,  '  as  merry  as  a  Greek '  was 
long  a  favorite  allusion.  The  poor  Trojans,  however, 
have  not  fared  quite  so  well — sinking  down  even  to 
the  level  of  a  thief.  As  when  bully  Pistol  says, 

" Dost  thou  thirst,  base  Trojan, 


To  have  me  fold  up  Parca's  fatal  web  ?" 

Henry  V.  V.  1. 

So,  too,  we  have  '  TURKS  '  whose  savage  disposition 
is  of  native  growth ;  '  GASCONADE  '  from  the  lips  of 


212  Ramble  Ninth. 

those  on  whom  the  sun  of  Gascony  never  shone ;  and 
'TARTARS'  who  never  saw  Tartary.  By  the  way 
what  a  keen  set  of  fellows  those  Tartars  must  be, 
when  l  to  catch  a  Tartar '  becomes  so  pungent  an  ex- 
pression !  Were  the  Carthaginians  really  instinct- 
ively liars,  or  was  it  only  Roman  malignity  that  made 
the  i  Punic  faith'1  emblematic  of  utter  national  menda- 
city ?  Still  do  the  ' GOTHS '  and  'VANDALS  '  survive 
as  typical  of  everything  that  is  ferocious  and  sacrile- 
gious, albeit  between  us  and  them  rolls  the  flood  of 
fourteen  centuries ;  and  it  is  even  said  that  the  'OGRES  ' 
of  the  Arabian  Nights  are  not  merely  mythic  mon- 
sters, but  that  a  dim  memory  survives  of  an  Asiatic 
nation  called  the  Oigours  who,  along  with  the  Huns 
and  the  Eastern  barbarians,  spread  terror  throughout 
Europe — leaving  behind  them  mementoes  and  associ- 
ations which  became  the  bases  of  a  thousand  fairy  and 
fantastic  tales. 

1  PATAVLNTTY  '  (Patois)  with  which  Livy  was 
charged  is  plainly  just  that  peculiar  dialect  spoken  in 
Patavium,  where  Livy  was  born.  So,  '  LACONIC  ' 
— Xaxwvixos — is  just  something  short  and  pithy — such 
as  we  might  expect  from  the  people  of  Laconia — the 
Spartans — a  grave,  sententious,  silence-loving,  and 
most  Carlylean  race.  Again,  the  term  '  CRAVAT  ' 
Skinner  derives  from  the  Croat  soldiers,  or  cravates, 


Medals  in  Names.  213 

as  the  French  called  them,  though  with  how  much 
probability  the  reader  will  judge  for  himself.* 

In  regard  to  the  origin  of  the  name  '  GAULS  '  genial 
old  Rabelais — who  to  the  universality  of  his  know- 
ledge added  an  acquaintance  with  Philology — has  a 
fanciful,  though  interesting  enough  passage,  in  which 
he  traces  the  name  to  Gala,  white:  "Cest  la  cause 
pourquoy  Galli  (ce  sont  les  Francoys,  ainsi  appellez 
parce  que  blancz  sont  naturellement  comme  laict,  que 
les  Grecz  nomment  Gala)  voulentiers  portent  plumes 
blanches  sur  leurs  bonnetz.  Car,  par  nature,  ilz  sont 
ioyeulx,  candides,  gratieux  et  bien  esmez ;  et  pour 
leur  symbole  et  insigne,  ont  la  fleur  plus  que  nulle 
aultre  blanche,  cest  le  lys." 

This  derivation  is  about  as  good  as  that  of  some 
high-minded  Scots  who  attempt  to  prove  that  *  SCOT- 
LAND' comes  from  Scota  the  (sham)  daughter  of 
Pharaoh,  King  of  Egypt,  married  to  Gaithelus,  son 
of  Cecrops,  founder  of  Athens  !  or  that  of  the  Welsh- 

*  See  Skinner's  Etymologicon,  in  loco.  Menage  takes  the 
word  from  the  same  source — saying  thereanent :  "  On  1'appelle 
de  la  sorte,  a  cause  que  nous  avons  emprunte  cette  sorte  d'or- 
nement  des  Creates,  qu'on  appelle  ordinairement  cravates" 
Thus  called  because  we  borrowed  that  species  of  ornament 
which  we  commonly  call  '  cravats '  from  the  Croats. 

Origines  de  la  Langue  Franchise. 


214  Ramble  Ninth. 

man  who  deduced  '  APOLLO  '  from  Ap-haul — son  of 
the  sun !  And  yet  these  are  no  more  ambitious  than 
the  magnificent  names  assumed  by  many  of  our 
Indian  tribes,  or  by  the  Asiatics :  instance  the  '  KAJ- 
POOTS  ' — which,  indeed,  is  nothing  less  lofty  than  the 
Sons  of  Kings  ! 

Such  are  some  of  the  most  significant  importations 
into  our  language  from  personal  names.  Names  of 
places  have  been  almost  equally  prolific.  And  most 
prominent  among  these  are  the  names  of  inventions 
that  have  taken  rise  from  the  locality  embodied  in 
their  appellations.  Such  terms  as  '  DAMASK  '  (Damas- 
cus) ;  '  CURRANTS  '  (Corinth) ;  '  HOLLAND  ;'  *  NANKEEN  ' 
(Xankin)',  l CALICO'  (Calicut)]  to  'JAPAN;'  'BAYONET5 
(Bayonne);  'TURKEY;'  with  the  names  of  liquors, 
such  as  'PORT'  (Ojoorjo^-,  'COGNAC;'  ' BURGUNDY ' 
etc.,  etc.,  make  themselves  apparent  at  first  sight. 

Again,  a  '  CORDWAINER,'  the  technical  term  for  a 
shoe-maker,  plainly  declares  himself  to  be  a  worker  in 
cordwain,  or  leather  of  Cordova,  in  Spain.  "Whence 
also  the  French  ' CORDONNIER.'  The  'ARRAS,'  or 
hanging  of  tapestry — a  word  frequently  employed  by 
the  elder  dramatists — is  evidently  named  after  the 
city  of  Arras,  in  the  French  Netherlands.  A  '  CRE- 
MONA' violin  unerringly  points  to  its  source.  So 


Medals  in  Names.  215 

does  an  '  ANDREW  FARRARA.'  And  so  also  does  a 
1  ZWay-BiBLE ' — evidently  being  the  translation  made 
at  Douay.  Lunier  declares  'MUSLIN'  (what  the 
French  call  mousseline)  to  be  from  Moussoul,  in  Meso- 
potamia; and  asserts  that  'PARCHMENT'  is  named 
after  Pergamus — whose  king,  Eumenes,  'tis  said,  in- 
vented the  article.  But  however  this  may  be,  a 
'MAGNET,'  at  least  points  straight  to  Magnesia,  in 
Asia  Minor.  Every  'GUINEA'  we  handle  jogs  the 
memory  in  regard  to  its  origin  on  the  Guinea  coast — 
that  ancient  El  Dorado,  while  our  '  DOLLAR  '  (Swedish 
daler)  is  maintained  by  some  to  be  connected  with 
Dale,  where,  they  say,  it  was  first  coined.  And 
'  STERLING  '  may  have  some  relation  to  the  place  of 
that  name — though  more  probably,  as  Camden  de- 
clares, it  is  a  contraction  from  Easterling,  "  once  the 
popular  name  of  German  traders  in  England,  whose, 
money  was  of  the  purest  gold." 

It  not  unfrequently  happens,  too,  that  these  appel- 
lations having  their  origin  in  the  names  of  places, 
preserve  some  important  piece  of  history.  The  word 
'  TARIFF  '  is  an  example  to  the  point.  It  traces  itself 
back  to  Tarifa,  a  Moorish  name  for  a  fortress  on  a 
Southern  promontory  of  Spain,  running  into  the 
Straits  of  Gibraltar,  and  commanding  the  entrance  of 
the  Mediterranean  sea.  From  this  Tarifa  the  Moors, 


21 6  Ramble  Ninth. 

during  their  dominion  in  Spain,  were  wont  to  watch 
merchant-ships  passing  into  or  out  from  the  Mediter- 
ranean, and,  making  a  sally  therefrom,  used  to  levy 
duty  on  merchandise  carried  by  the  ships.  And 
from  this  practice  it  was  that  the  application  of  the 
word  '  TARIFF  '  arose. 

Proper  names !  This  is  a  vast,  indeed  a  quite  bound- 
less field!  A  calculation  that  seems  to  err  on  the 
safe  side  makes  out  the  number  of  surnames  in  the 
English  language  to  be  between  thirty  and  forty 
thousand!*  Of  English  Surnames  we  have,  so  far, 
nothing  like  an  adequate  History  or  Philosophy. 
Camdenf — "nourice  of  antiquitie" — broke  ground 
more  than  two  hundred  years  ago  in  this  interesting 
investigation.  His  contemporary,  genial  old  Yerste- 
gan,  did  good  service  in  the  same  direction.  On 
these — added  to  additional  contributions  of  minor 
note — Mr.  Mark  Antony  Lower  wrought  in  the  pro- 
duction of  his  "  Essays  on  Family  Nomenclature ' 
(2  vols.  12mo.,  London,  1842).  The  Essays  are  useful 
and  entertaining,  though  quite  inadequate,  Mr.  Lower 

*  Kev.  Mark  Noble:  History  of  the  College  of  Arms. 
t  REMAINS  concerning  Britaine,  but  especially  England  and  the 
Inhabitants  thereof. 


Medals  in  Names.  217 

f 

being  no  philologer.  A  work  up  to  the  demands  of 
the  theme  would  be  indeed  a  desideratum. 

Was  there  ever  a  time  when  men  were  anony- 
mous ? — a  mere  indiscriminate  herd  of  Yous  ?  To 
this  period  the  memory  of  man,  at  least,  runneth  not 
back,  and  the  oldest  historical  representations  open 
with  a  personal  nomenclature  somewhat  of  the  nature 
of  the  sobriquet  or  nickname — a  single  name  freely 
designating  some  idiosyncrasy  of  the  individual.  A 
broad,  free,  spontaneous  method  was  this — seizing 
some  emphatic  piece  of  personnel,  and  making  it  the 
symbol  of  the  man.  Hercules,  Ulysses,  Diogenes, 
Socrates,  Isaac,  Jacob  are  instances  from  Greek  and 
Hebrew  nomenclature. 

An  advance  on  this  primitive  nomenclature  was 
the  assumption  of  the  name  of  one's  sire  in  addition 
to  his  own  proper  name,  as  Melchi  ben  Addi — Mel- 
chi,  son  of  Addi ;  Ixapos  TOU  Aai&xXou — Icarus,  son  of 
Daedalus.  Additional  definiteness  was  gained  by  the 
annexation  of  an  epithet  indicative  of  his  country  or 
some  personal  or  social  peculiarity,  as  Herodotus  of 
Halicarnassus;  Diogenes  the  Cynic;  Alexander  the 
Great. 

But  the  perfection  of  personal  nomenclature  was 
the  introduction  of  the  Surname  proper — a  name 
superadded  to  the  first  or  Christian  name,  to  indicate 

10 


21 8  Ramble  Ninth. 

the  family  to  which  the  individual  bearing  it  belongs. 
Du  Gauge  asserts  that  Surnames  were  at  first  written 
"not  in  a  direct  line  after  the  Christian  name,  but 
above  it,  between  the  lines  " — and  so,  literally,  supra- 
nomina  or  over-names.  English  hereditary  Surnames 
were  among  the  fruits  of  that  mighty  social  revolu- 
tion that  came  with  the  Norman  conquest.  As  says 
the  great  Camden,  "  About  the  year  of  our  Lord 
1000,  (that  we  may  not  minute  out  the  time)  sur- 
names became  to  be  taken  up  in  France;  and  in 
England  about  the  time  of  the  Conquest,  or  else  a 
very  little  before,  under  King  Edward  the  Confessor, 
who  was  all  Frenchified.  This  will  seeme  strange  to 
some  Englishmen  and  Scottishmen,  whiche,  like  the 
Arcadians,  thinke  their  surnames  as  antient  as  the 
moon,  or  at  least  to  reach  many  an  age  beyond  the 
Conquest.  But  they  which  thinke  it  most  strange 
(I  speake  under  correction),  I  doubt  they  will  hardly 
finde  any  surname  which  descended  to  posterity 
before  that  time:  neither  have  they  seene  (I  feare) 
any  deede  or  donation  before  the  Conquest  but  sub- 
signed  with  crosses  and  single  names  without  sur- 
names, in  this  manner :  +  Ego  Eadredus  confirmaui. 
-J-  Ego  Edmundus  corroboraui.  +  Ego  Sigarius 
conclusi,"  etc. 

Lower  makes  a  classification  of  English  surnames 


Medals  in  Names.  219 

as  originating  in  Locality,  Occupations,  Dignities, 
Physical  and  Mental  Qualities,  Natural  Objects, 
Social  Relations,  Contempt,  Virtues  and  Vices,  Histori- 
cal Events,  Oaths  and  Exclamations,  Puns,  Whimsi- 
calities, etc.  I  can  but  select  a  few  typical  examples. 

Local  Surnames.  This  is  a  copious  source  of  names, 
every  feature  in  Geography  having  fossilized  into 
numerous  personal  appellations.  BURNS,  BRYDGES 
(Scotch  BRIGGS),  BROOKS,  CRAGGS,  the  CHASE  (or 
forest),  the  FIELD,  FOLD  and  FOREST,  the  GRANGE, 
GROVE,  HILL  and  HOUSE,  the  HOLMES  (meadow  sur- 
rounded by  water),  KNOWLES  (top  of  a  hill),  and 
LOWNDES  (or  lawns),  MARSH,  MILL,  Moss  and 
MOUNTAIN,  PARK,  PITT,  POOLE,  and  SANDS,  the 
STREET,  SPIRE,  TREE  and  TOWER,  and  finally  every 
quarter,  NORTH,  SOUTH,  EAST  and  WEST  have  con- 
tributed to  swell  the  list. 

Occupations  and  Pursuits.  In  this  marshaling  of 
Names  with  reference  to  their  sources,  next  in  num- 
ber to  the  local  contributions  are  the  contributions 
from  Occupations  and  Pursuits.  These  became  a 
natural  resort  for  nomenclature  with  the  advance  of 
the  arts.  "  PARSONS  and  PRIESTS  met  with  CHURCHES 
and  PARISHES  and  DYERS  bound  to  COFFINS,  while 
GRAVES  yawned  before  both ;  BREWER  sent  out 
BEERS,  and  FISHER  brought  in  EELS  ;  and,  in  short, 


220  Ramble  Ninth. 

every  body  had  the  name  of  doing  something  in  the 
way  of  his  trade." 

But  whence  came  all  the  SMITHS?  Momentous 
question  !  An  acceptable  enough  answer  is  contained 
in  this  old  rhyme  which  Yerstegan  quotes  as  current 
in  his  time : 

"From  whence  comes  Smith,  all  be  he  Knight  or  Squyre, 
But  from  the  Smith  that  forgeth  at  the  fyre  ?" 

SMITH,  then,  is  originally  one  who  smitheih — 
Smi(te)th.  But  as  the  Saxon  verb  smitan  was  applied 
to  workers  in  wood  as  well  as  to  those  in  metal,  SMITH 
meant  a  smiter  in  general,  including  wheelwrights, 
carpenters,  masons,  etc.  And  hence  the  frequency  of 
the  name. 

Leaving  the  Smiths  we  have  the  MILLERS,  MASONS, 
CARPENTERS,  BAKERS,  GOLDSMITHS,  SHEPHERDS, 
BUTLERS,  BUTCHERS,  CARTERS,  COOPERS,  COLLIERS, 
LAWYERS,  TAYLORS,  etc.  JENNER  is  an  old  form  of 
joiner  ;  WEBSTER  is  properly  the  feminine  of  weaver. 
The  associations  of  field-sports  have  left  us  HUNTERS, 
FOWLERS,  FISHERS,  FALCONERS,  HAWKERS,  ARROW- 
SMITHS  and  FLETCHERS  (French  fieche,  an  arrow), 
which  is  Norman  for  the  same.  But  what  do  you 
say  of  HOPPERS,  SKIPPERS  and  JUMPERS  ? 


Medals  in  Names.  221 

And  then,  Offices  and  Dignities  have  left  us  a  large 
nominal  legacy — from  EMPEROR  and  KING,  through 
PRINCES,  EARLES  and  LORDS,  down  to  the  plain 
YEOMAN  and  SQUIRE.  The  Church  has  given  us 
POPES,  BISHOPS,  PARSONS,  PRIESTS  and  CLARKS 
(CLARKES).  The  State  has  given  us,  entre  autres, 
CHANCELLORS,  MAYORS  and  REEVES.  As  for  SPEN- 
CER, it  is  simply  Le  Despencer,  the  dispenser ;  CHAL- 
MERS (Chambers)  is  primarily  De  la  Chambre  the 
Chamberlain;  and.  FRANKLIN  records  a  piece  of 
primitive  English  socialism — being  etymologically 
just  a  freeholder.  Chaucer,  in  the  Prologue  to  the 
Canterbury  Tales,  has  a  lively  picture  of  the  Frank- 
lin, which  begins  after  this  wise : 

"  A  FRANKELEIN  was  in  this  compagnie 
White  was  his  berd,  as  is  the  dayesie. 
Of  his  complexion  he  was  sanguin,"  etc. 

PILGRIM  and  PALMER!  The  crusades  rise  at  the 
names! — the  PILGRIMS  on  their  way  to  the  Holy 
Land,  the  PALMERS  with  their  palm-branches  in  their 
hands.* 

"  His  sandals  were  with  travel  tore, 
Staff,  budget,  bottle,  scrip  he  wore; 

*  Lower  on  Surnames. 


222  Ramble  Ninth. 

The  faded  palm-branch  in  his  hand 
Shewed  pilgrim  from  the  Holy  Land." 

Marmion. 


Personnel.  A  fruitful  source  of  nominal  roots  are 
Personal  and  Mental  Qualities.  How  easy  for  sobri- 
quets to  arise  from  some  external  or  internal  idiosyn- 
crasy, as  BLACK,  BROWN,  WHITE  (WHITMAN),  GREY; 
or  lie  was  a  LONGMAN  or  a  LONGFELLOW  or  STRONG 
or  SMALL  or  SWIFT  or  STOUT.  EEED,  READ  or  REID, 
are  all  variations  of  RED.  MEEK,  NOBLE  and  STERNE, 
too,  had  doubtless  once  a  positive  metaphysical  signi- 
ficance. GIFFORD  is  one  given  to  giving  (Saxon  Gifan, 
to  give).  SWEET,  FREEMAN,  GOODENOUGH  !  DOOLIT- 
TLE  contains  a  sad  confession.  And  what  shall  we 
say  to  Mr.  DRINKWATER?  Fantastic  enough,  cer- 
tainly. But  have  not  the  French  also  their  BOILEAU? 
And  the  apotheosis  of  all  the  virtues  appears  in 
PEACE,  HOPE,  JOY,  MERCY,  BLISS  I 

Natural  Objects.  Nature,  too,  has  been  harried  for 
appellations.  Descending  from  SUN  and  STARS,  we 
take  in  the  whole  animal  world,  as  (quadrupeds) 
LYON,  BUCK,  HART,  LAMB,  HOGG  (akin  to  BACON), 
BULLOCK  ;  (birds)  HERON,  CRANE,  JAY,  ROOKE  ; 
(fishes)  PIKE,  CRABBE,  HERRING;  (insects)  WASP, 
FLY,  etc.  The  vegetable  world  comes  in  for  its  share 


Medals  in  Names.  223 

— MYRTLE,  SAGE,  PEPPER,  PEASE,  LEMON  and  PEEL. 
Nor  lias  the  mineral  kingdom  escaped — as  STONE, 
FLINT,  STEELE,  JEWELL  I 

Oddities.  Lower,  under  this  head,  gives  a  curious 
list  of  odd  names  that  probably  arose  from  sobriquets 
formerly  applied  to  the  individuals.  Among  these 
are  appellations  derived  from  parts  of  the  human 
body,  as  HEAD,  BONES,  BACK,  HEART,  TOE,  HEELE, 
SOLE  ;  or  from  coins,  as  FARTHING,  PENNY,  MONEY- 
PENNY;  or  from  the  weather,  as  FROST,  SNOW,  HAIL; 
or  numbers,  as  Six,  FORTYE,  ONCE,  TWICE.  Have 
Messrs.  PHYSIC  and  COFFIN  any  necessary  kinship  ? 
And  what  is  one  to  say  of  such  forms  as  these  but 
that  they  are  pure  nicknames :  CROOKSHANKS, 

LONGSHANKS,  GOSLING,  TREE,  BLOOD,  DEATH  ! 

But  the  farthest  reaches  of  nominal  fancies  are  to 
be  found  in  the  grotesque  Christian  names  which  the 
Puritans,  during  the  Sixteenth  and  Seventeenth  Cen- 
turies, were  fond  of  giving  themselves. .  *  *  Sometimes, ' ' 
says  Hume,  "  a  whole  godly  sentence  was  adopted  as 
a  name ;"  and  he  quotes  the  names  of  a  Sussex  jury, 
that  runs  after  this  wise : 

Stand-fast-on-high  Stringer  of  Crowhurst, 

More-fruite  Fowler  of  East-Hadley, 

Kill-sin  Pimple  of  Witham, 

Fight-the-good-fight-of-faith  White  of  Ewen,  etc. 


22_)  Ramble  Ninth. 

Ben  Jonson,  in  Bartholomew  Fair,  thus  throws  his 
thought  into  Dialogue : 

Q.  His  Christen-name  is  Zeal-of-the-Land. 

L.  Yes,  Sir,  Zeal-of-the-Land  Busy. 

W.  How !    What  a  name's  there  I 

L.  O,  they  have  all  such  names,  Sir ;  he  was  witness  for 
Winbere  (they  will  not  be  called  God-fathers)  and  named  her 
"Win-the-fight :  you  thought  her  name  had  been  Winnifred,  did 
you  not  ? 

W.  I  did  indeed. 

L.  He  would  ha'  thought  himself  a  stark  reprobate  if  it  had. 

But  the  most  extraordinary  one  I  have  yet  met  with 
is  the  following — itself  a  perfect  catechism  in  petto :  If- 
Christ-had-not-died-for-thee-thou  -  had'st-been  -  damned 
Dobson ! 

A  very  evident  mode  of  forming  names  of  persons 
would  be  to  join  the  father's — the  sirens  name — to  that 
of  the  child,  connecting  them  by  some  word  to  indi- 
cate the  relationship.  Thus  the  Scotch  Highlanders 
have  their  Mac — '  MACDONALD,'  for  instance — or  as 
we  would  have  it,  '  DONALDSON  '  (i.e.  Donald's  son). 
So  the  Normans  have  their  Fitz — supposed  to  be  just 
a  corruption  of  fils  (filius — a  son) ;  the  Irish  their 
O1 ;  the  Kussians  their  Witz  ;  the  Poles  their  Sky — • 


Medals  in  Names.  225 

'  PETERSON,'  for  instance,  being  with  them,  '  PETROW- 
SKY  ;'  and  the  Welsh  their  Ap — which,  however,  we 
are  not  always  very  careful  to  preserve — David  ap 
Howel  (i.e.  David,  son  of  Howel)  appearing  simply 
as  David  Powell,  and  John  ap  Eichard,  as  the  plain 
John  Pritchard. 

The  Welsh  affectation  of  joining  together  the  names 
of  a  score  or  two  of  ancestors  (connecting  them  by 
their  endless  *  APS  ')  has  given  rise  to  more  banter 
and  pleasantry  than  we  could  conveniently  notice. 
Tim  Bobbin  has  some  curiosities  in  this  way.  It  was 
not  unusual,  a  century  or  two  back,  to  hear  of  such 
combinations  as  Evan-ap-Griffth-ap-David-ap- Jenkin ; 
and  some  wag,  in  the  way  of  burlesque,  described 
cheese  as  being 

"  Adam's  own  cousin-german  by  its  birth, 
Ap-Curds-ap-Milk-ap-Cow-ap-Grass-ap-Earth." 

Such  names  as  these,  declares  Lower,  cast  the 
Dutch  Inkvervankodsdorspanckinkadrachdern  quite  into 
the  shade ! 

Our  Saxon  names  are  often  profoundly  significant. 
'ALFRED,'  for  instance,  is  All  peace;  'BERNARD'  is 
Bearen  (or  Bear's)  heart;  'EDGAR'  is  Ead-gard — one 
who  guards  his  (ead)  oath — a  troth-keeper;  'Eo- 

10* 


226  Ramble  Ninth. 

WARD  7  is  the  same  as  Edgar  (ward=guard) ;  '  GOOD- 
WIN '  is  a  Good-win — who  turns  goods,  or  wealth. :  so 
'  EGBERT  '  is  said  to  signify  one  disposed  to  rest — and 
the  account  which  Verstegan  gives  of  the  origin  of 
the  name  '  WILLIAM  '  is  very  curious :  He  says  that 
in  the  wars  between  the  Germans  and  Eomans,  the 
Koman  officers  were  in  the  habit  of  wearing  gilded 
head-pieces ;  and  whenever  a  German  soldier  killed  a 
Roman  officer,  this  gilded  head-piece  was  put  on  the 
soldier's  head,  so  that  he  forthwith  became  a  Gild- 
helm  (a  Golden  helmet) — what  the  Latins  call  Guiliel- 
mus,  the  French  Guillaume,  and  we  '  WILLIAM.' 

The  name  of  the  various  trades  and  professions 
might  form  a  curiously  interesting  subject  for  investi- 
gation under  this  same  head.  A  '  CLOTHIER,'  for  in- 
stance, is  very  evidently  one  who  deals  in  cloth  or  clothes 
— a  (  DRAPER,'  as  we  say,  which  is  just  *  clothier '  in 
French — drap  being  their  word  for  cloth.  So,  a  ( TAI- 
LOR '  is  one  whose  business  it  is  to — tailler — to  cut  out 
garments ;  but,  not  only  to  cut  them  out,  but  also  to 
sew  them  together — a  realization  obtained  by  'COSIER,' 
which  Shakespeare,  in  the  Twelfth  Night,  uses,  though 
we  have  not  retained  the  term.  A  '  FARRIER,'  again, 
is  plainly  one  who  works  m—ferrum — iron — shoeing 
a  horse  being  expressed  both  in  French  and  Italian 


Medals  in  Names.  227 

by  ironing  a  horse ;  while  a  '  CURRIER  '  finds  his  em- 
ployment in — cuir — leather,  and  a  '  SEXTON  is  just  a 
sacristan. 

Pegge  says — whether  right  or  wrong — that '  APOTH- 
ECARY '  (the  old  potecary)  is  originally  a  boticario — i.e., 
one  who  has  a  shop,  what  we  would  call  a  'STATIONER' 
(only  that  that  has  acquired  a  special  signification),  in 
opposition  to  a  (  PEDLER  ' — who  is,  of  course,  continu- 
ally trudging  along  on  his  feet — pedes.  A  *  BUTCHER  ' 
is  doubtless  just  the  French  boucher — a  form  which, 
by  the  way,  we  find  in  old  literature.  Thus  the 
"  beastly  Skelton  "  says : 

"  For  drede  of  the  Boucher's  dog 
Wold  worry  them  like  a  hog." 

And  a  '  GROCER  '  rather  boastingly  declares  that  he 
deals  only  in  gross.  Johnson,  indeed,  recommended 
that  the  word  be  spelled  grosser* — which  has  certainly 

*  Our  age  is  no  respecter  of  letters.  In  our  retrenchment 
and  amendment  we  deal  with  them  just  as  if  they  had  no  feeling 
on  the  subject.  Once,  we  know,  Orthography  was  a  more 
serious  affair;  for  "Worthy"  Fuller  tells  us  of  a  clerk  in  the 
culinary  department  of  the  royal  household,  who  narrowly 
escaped  condign  punishment  for  spelling  (7inapi  as  /S'inapl 

Church  History,  Book  IV.  p.  156 


228  Ramble  Ninth. 

the  warrant  of  etymology.     This  is  but  a  hint  of  an 
immense  theme. 

The  theory  of  nomenclature  finally  ascends  into  the 
sesthetical  realm — vast  and  hitherto  all  but  unex- 
plored domain.  The  necessities  of  Literary  Art — 
especially  as  expressed  in  the  drama  and  novel — 
require  the  creation  of  ideal  Names.  And  often  high 
and  highest  art  is  displayed  in  the  workings  of  crea- 
tive Imagination  on  nominal  emblems  for  these 
avatars  of  the  mind.  The  masters  of  the  modern 
Novel  all  work,  consciously  or  unconsciously,  on  the 
problem  of  Names.  I  know  books  that  suggest  ideal 
pedigrees,  a  new  heraldry  of  the  mind,  and  carry  far- 
ther out  the  boundaries  of  Metaphysics. 

To  Modern  times  and  to  America,  too,  the  thought 
of  Naming  presents  itself.  Once,  we  know,  every 
name  was  significant.  There  have  been  seasons,  in 
the  elder  ages,  of  flood-tides  in  the  creative  faculties, 
when  Nature  disclosed  her  secret  thought  and  gave  it 
to  man  to  name  her — when  to  mountain  and  stream, 
field  and  flood  were  added  names  that  are  poems. 
Why  should  not  we,  too,  come  into  this  Orphic 
secret  ?  Why  should  we  masquerade  in  the  old  cos- 
tume? Imperative  is  the  demand  for  a  fresh,  free, 
appropriate  nomenclature  for  American  Geography, 


Medals  in  Names.  229 

Inventions,  Contributions,  Personalities.  Already 
the  new  needs  make  the  old  perfections  meagre  and 
inadequate.  To  you,  Poets  and  Builders,  sublime 
invitations !  To  quarry  and  to  build  in  the  new 
architectures  of  humanity. 


RAMBLE  TENTH. 

SYNONYMS  AND  THEIR  SUGGESTIONS. 

"  All  languages  tend  to  clear  themselves  of  synonyms  as  intel- 
lectual culture  advances — the  superfluous  words  being  taken  up 
and  appropriated  by  new  shades  and  combinations  of  thought 
evolved  in  the  progress  of  society." 

DE  QUINCEY. 

AN  adequate  treatment  of  English  Synonyms  is 
still  a  desideratum.  Crabbe's  work  was  written  before 
Philology  became  a  science,  and  the  little  volume 
edited  by  Archbishop  Whately  clean  skips  etymology 
and  all  its  seminal  suggestions.  Mr.  Taylor  ("  Eng- 
lish Synonyms  Discriminated")  commands  the  ety- 
mologic method,  and  has  furnished  an  important 
contribution  to  Synonymy  :  but  his  work  is  not  at  all 
proportioned  to  the  copiousness  of  our  language.  Of 
much  profounder  philosophic  significance  is  the  The- 


Synonyms  and  their  Suggestions.      231 

saurus*  of  Mr.  Eoget,  who  has  given  us  a  metaphysical 
classification  of  Thoughts  and  Things  with  their  cor- 
responding Verbal  Symbols — "furnishing  on  every 
topic  a  copious  store  of  words  and  phrases,  adapted  to 
express  all  the  recognizable  shades  and  modifications 
of  the  general  idea  under  which  those  words  and 
phrases  are  arranged."  These  various  works  are  all 
useful  auxiliaries ;  but  I  return  to  the  assertion  with 
which  I  set  out,  that  an  adequate  treatment  of  this 
subject  is  still  something  to  be  desired.  A  great 
Synonymy,  after  the  modern  Philologic  Methods, 
would  be  a  most  important  contribution  to  the  Philo- 
sophy of  the  English  language.  Much  is  in  the  sub- 
ject ;  much  grows  out  of  it. 

But  are  there  any  such  words  as  synonyms  ?  Of 
absolutely  equivalent,  absolutely  equipollent  expres- 
sions there  are  necessarily  few.  Not  but  that  terms 
between  which  exists  a  certain  Algebraic  equality  are 
to  be  found :  the  number  is  small,  however,  and 
constantly  diminishing.  It  is  the  tendency  of  an 
advancing  culture — of  an  expansion  of  the  horizon  of 
thoughts  and  things — to  eliminate  synonyms  by  sepa- 
rating kindred  terms  and  stamping  each  respectively 

*  Thesaurus  of  English  Words  and  Phrases,  Classified  and 
Arranged  so  as  to  Facilitate  the  Expression  of  Ideas  and  Assist 
in  Literary  Composition.  London,  1852. 


232  Ramble  Tenth. 

with  the  seal  and  superscription  of  an  intellectual 
individuality.  Of  synonymous  words  we  shall  then 
have  to  say,  that  they  are  such  as,  bearing  general 
and  generic  resemblances,  have  yet  specific  differences, 
and  a  color  and  contour  of  their  own. 

The  causes  of  the  growth  of  Synonyms  lie  deep  in 
the  roots  of  a  nation's  life  and  language.  Eelations, 
external  and  internal,  act — amalgamation  of  races, 
literary  influence  and  action  of  other  nations,  the 
prominent  elements  of  national  civilization,  with 
other  and  subtler  causes.  "With  a  people  of  active 
imagination  there  is  always  a  tendency  -to  drape  the 
crowning  facts  and  factors  of  its  life  with  a  copious 
richness  of  expressive  forms.  And  it  is  significant  to 
notice  the  manner  in  which  even  individual  elements 
in  a  nation's  civilization  have  been  affected  with  ver- 
bal powers.  In  the  era  of  chivalry  there  was  a  host 
of  expressions  to  render  the  idea  of  horse.  In  San- 
scrit, the  language  of  Hindostan,  where  the  elephant 
plays  a  part  as  important  as  the  horse  among  our- 
selves, words  abound  to  designate  this  pachyderm. 
Sometimes  it  is  denominated  the  '  twice-drinking  ani- 
mal,' sometimes  as  'he  who  has  two  teeth,'  sometimes 
as  'the  animal  with  the  proboscis.'*  This  is  still 

*  Alfred  Mauiy. 


Synonyms  and  their  Suggestions.      233 

more  strikingly  manifest  in  the  Arabic,  which  is  said 
to  have  the  enormous  multitude  of  several  hundred 
words  for  the  '  ship  of  the  desert.' 

These  divers  influences  have  all  acted  on  the  Eng- 
lish Speech.  Complex  in  its  organism  as  no  language 
is,  it  inherits  all  that  antiquity  conceived  and  freely 
augments  and  enriches  itself  with  importations  from 
the  modern  idioms.  Born  thus  of  the  marriage  of 
several  stocks  and  tongues,  a  copious  equivalence 
runs  through  the  English  language,  and  it  frequently 
depends  on  a  writer's  choice  whether  his  diction  shall 
bear  the  features  of  this  or  that  branch  of  his  linguistic 
ancestry. 

Of  this  hospitality  of  our  language  numerous  illus- 
trations present  themselves.  Thus  the  good  strong 
Saxon  '  THICK  '  has  always  been  a  living  part  of  our 
speech,  expressing  a  sly  fraud :  but,  not  content  with 
this  single  symbol,  early  in  the  literary  history  of  our 
language  a  double  inoculation  of  words  from  the 
classics  took  place — the  Greek  contributing  'STKA- 
TAGEM'  (stratagemd),  the  Latin  'AKTIFICE'  (artificium). 
Nor  is  this  all.  With  the  study  of  Italian  literature, 
during  the  reign  of  James  I.,  'DEVICE'  was  intro- 
duced; and  a  still  farther  importation  was  made, 
under  the  writers  of  Charles  II. — with  whom  a 
French  renaissance  took  place — of  the  term  l  FINESSE.' 


234  Ramble  Tenth. 

Thus  it  is  that  the  English  language  has  enriched 
itself  from  a  five-fold  source  with  words  for  the  ex- 
pression of  a  single  general  idea.  And  here  precisely 
it  is  that  the  constant  law  of  Desynonymizing,  as  Cole- 
ridge expressively  terms  it,  comes  into  play,  and  a 
gradual  divergence,  a  gradual  individualizing  of  each 
term  takes  place :  and  so  it  is  that,  in  the  final  assort- 
ment, while  '  TRICK  '  continues  its  general,  social  sig- 
nificance, '  ARTIFICE  '  carries  with  it  rather  the  mean- 
ing of  a  mechanical  contrivance,  'STRATAGEM'  a 
military  feint ;  '  DEVICE  '  was  gradually  exported  into 
heraldry,  "  describing  the  hieroglyph  by  means  of 
which  the  name  of  a  chieftain  is  enigmatically  written 
on  his  shield,"  while  'FINESSE' — which  has  the 
French  charm  of  vagueness — is  gradually  assuming 
the  sense  of  intellectual  subtlety.  Take  another  illus- 
tration. 'Blast,'  'Gale,'  'Oust,'  'Storm,' 'Tempest,' 
'  Hurricane.'  Here  are  six  words  all  expressive  of 
violent  atmospheric  phenomena,  and  which,  coming 
from  various  linguistic  sources,  have  all  been  natu- 
ralized in  our  language  and  have  elaborated  for  them- 
selves a  distinctive  individuality.  It  is  only,  however, 
the  clue  of  etymology  that  discloses  the  proper  shape 
and  shade  belonging  to  each  of  these  terms.  And  it 
is  instructive  to  note  what  subtle  facts  are  exposed 
by  the  opening  up  of  the  interior  import  of  these 


Synonyms  and  their  Suggestions.      235 

word-histories.  For  'GUST'  and  'STORM'  are  of 
Northern  origin  (Danish  and  Icelandic  in  their  con- 
nections), and  suggest  the  phenomena  of  northern 
climates — 'gust'  carrying  with  it  the  fitful  gush  of 
the  wind;  and  'storm'  being  more  violent,  more 
complex — the  stir,  namely,  of  the  atmospheric  ele- 
ments ;  fierce  rapid  meteorologic  commotion,  throwing 
air  and  earth  and  ocean  into  elemental  contest,  with 
darkness,  perchance,  and  destruction  and  hail  and 
snow.  '  TEMPEST  '  is  of  southern  origin  and  describes 
the  sort  of  storm  common  in  warm  countries,  where 
quite  a-^me-of-it  (tempestas,  tempus,  time)  is  of  frequent 
occurrence,  wind  accompanied  with  rain  and  lighten- 
ings  and  thunder.  '  HURRICANE  '  though  of  Spanish  or 
French  origin  (Spanish  huracan  ;  French  ouragan)  has 
yet  a  historical  and  geographical  connection  with  the 
storm-phenomena  of  the  West  Indies  and  the  Caribean 
Sea ;  and  hence  is  in  its  very  nature  peculiarly  fitted 
to  typify  tropical  and  summer  storms.  As  I  am  on 
the  vocabulary  of  tempests,  it  occurs  to  me  to  mention 
an  additional  synonym  to  the  preceding,  and  which 
did  not  come  into  my  mind  when  writing  the  above. 
I  refer  to  the  word  '  TORNADO.'  And  here,  too,  the 
magic  wand  of  Etymology  is  of  potent  service.  For 
is  it  not  patent  that  the  connection  of  this  term  with 
the  verb  to  turn  (Spanish  and  Portuguese  tornada,  a 


236  Ramble  Tenth. 

turning  round)  is  suggestive  of  precisely  the  element 
that  most  eminently  characterizes  these  oriental  tem- 
pests— the  whirling  motion,  the  whirlwind,  namely  ? 

But  let  me  enter  into  the  subject  of  Synonyms  with 
somewhat  more  of  system.  And  in  this  estimation 
of  the  influences  that  have  acted  on  the  growth  of 
Synonyms  we  shall  follow  the  line  of  history  if  we 
notice  such  correlative  expressions  as  arose  from  the 
inoculation,  early  in  the  history  of  our  language,  of 
the  large  Norman  element  that  came  with  the  Norman 
Conquest.  Such  correlatives  are  very  numerous. 
And  it  is  a  significant  fact  that  the  antagonism  that 
long  subsisted  between  the  Saxon  and  Norman  races 
is  vividly  mirrored  in  our  language.  For  presently  a 
fierce  hostility  arose  between  the  contending  native 
and  foreign  terms,  and  Saxon  and  Norman  verbs  and 
substantives  waged  a  war  as  bitter  as  that  recently 
carried  on  by  Saxon  and  Norman  men. 

Various  of  course  were  the  fortunes  of  the  day. 
At  times,  the  Gallicism  clean  overpowered  and  sup- 
planted the  Saxonism;  at  others,  the  French  word 
had  to  yield  before  the  imperious  home-instinct.  Now 
a  Saxon  noun  fell  into  disuse,  a  Norman  substitute 
taking  its  place,  and  only  the  adjective  remaining  as  a 
reminiscence  of  the  old  vocable ;  anon,  both  words 
were  retained,  some  compromise  being  struck  between 


Synonyms  and  their  Suggestions.      237 

them — the  Saxon,  perchance,  crystallizing  around  the 
homelier,  heartier  nucleus  of  meaning ;  the  Gallicism 
employed  in  the  more  courtly,  more  recherche  signi- 
fication. 

And  first,  of  such  duplicates  the  native  form  of 
which  the  French  finally  succeeded  in  eliminating. 
The  Saxon  term  for  a  tiller  of  the  ground  was  earth- 
ling — a  word  of  sweet  and  tender  beauty,  which  I 
cannot  but  wish  had  been  retained — gave  place  to 
the  Norman  *  FARMER  ' — -fermier  •  while  earthling  has 
completely  lost  all  its  old  vitality  and  been  pressed 
into  the  moral  service.  Relations,  social  and  political, 
coming  under  the  control  of  the  invaders,  the  new 
regime  made  itself  powerfully  and  practically  felt  in 
the  dealings  of  the  law,  of  which  here  is  an  illustra- 
tion. To  express  the  legal  union  of  the  sexes  the 
Normans  imposed  on  the  conquered  Saxon  their  word 
'MARRIAGE,'  which  is  just  the  getting  of  a  mari  or 
husband  (getting  a  man,  as  the  Scotch  say) — sup- 
planting thus  the  native  expression,  gyfta  (a  giving 
away).  This,  though,  is  but  the  external,  the  conven- 
tion part :  the  heart  of  the  matter  continued  still  to 
be  expressed  by  the  Saxon  '  WEDDING,'  an  expressive 
word,  originating  in  wed,  a  pledge,  a  covenant.  And 
here  are  some  native  words  every  vestige  of  which 
has  disappeared  from  our  speech.  Month-sick  has 


238  Ramble  Tenth. 

been  supplanted  by  'LUNATIC,'  behodun  by  'COM- 
MAXDMEXT,'  anweaM  by  'AUTHORITY,'  agilt  by 
*  RECOMPENSE,'  and  afgodnes  by  '  IDOLATRY.' 

Or  again,  there  occurs  an  outcropping  of  the  old 
form,  as  primary  strata  shoot  up  through  the  walls  of 
the  world.  Bead  is  no  longer  a  living  English  word, 
having  given  place  to  *  PRAYER  '  (French  priere) :  and 
yet  we  have  reminiscences  thereof  in  the  beads,  on 
which  the  Catholic  counts  his  prayers;  in  the  bead- 
roll  (bede-roll)  which  was  the  roll  or  list  of  persons  to 
be  prayed  for,  and  in  the  memory  of  the  old  beadsman, 
who  was  to  bless  and  pray,  dropping  his  beads,  and 
saying 

"  Stranger  go !     Heaven  be  thy  guide." 

Burns. 

'  STEWARD  '  seems  to  have  undergone  quite  a  dege- 
neracy. For  the  composition  of  the  word  would 
imply  that  he  was  originally  the  stede-ward  (sted-ward, 
ste(d)ward  =  steward*)  the  ward,  guard  or  keeper  in 
the  stead  or  place  of  another — a  meaning  which  was 
afterwards  covered  by  the  French  'LIEUTENANT:' 
and  then  it  was  that  the  declension  of  steward  began, 

*  In  regard  to  steward  Webster  says,  "  the  meaning  of  the 
first  syllable  is  not  evident!"  I  can't  imagine  anything  more 
evident.  But  he  was  misled,  as  so  frequently,  by  Johnson. 


Synonyms  and  their  Suggestions.      239 

sinking  down  into  a  mere  butler  or  botile-er !    '  HEADY  ' 
and  '  TESTY  '  (French  teste,  tete,  the  head)  are  etymologi- 
cally  entirely  coincident,  and  yet  they  soon  began  to 
diverge  in  meaning,  while  'HEADY'  is  now  all  but 
obsolete.     Or  consider  this   duplicate — to    'whiten' 
and  to  '  blanch,'  the  first  of  the  native  stock,  the  latter 
of  the  Norman  importation  (blanchir,  blanc,  white). 
Here,  too,  the  etymologic  coincidence  is  perfect.     It 
was  not  long,  however,  before  they  gradually  began 
to  fall  apart — to  whiten  meaning  to  superinduce  a 
white  color,  whereas  blanch  implies  the  withdrawal  of 
some  coloring  matter,  which  concealed  the  natural 
color.     Similar    is    the    duplicity    that    was    found 
between    *  THOUGHTFUL  '    (Saxon)    and    *  PENSIVE  ' 
(French):    in  time,   however,  the 'national  instinct 
appropriated  the  latter  term  to  symbolize  the  senti- 
mental side  of  the  quality — '  PENSIVE  '  superinducing 
on  thoughtfulness  an   element   of  soft   sadness.     The 
Norman   never  could  \usurp  the  Saxon's  home  and 
hearth,  although  he  did  succeed  in  leaving  his  impress 
on  many  a  stately  '  mansion ;'  and  yet  most  effectu- 
ally did  he  invade  the  manners  and  customs  of  our 
ancestors,  introducing  his  own  '  modes '  and  '  fashions ' 
— putting  '  bonnets ' — which  is  French  every  letter  of 
it — on  women's  heads,  although  he  never  managed  to 
take  the  '  hats '  (Saxon  hcet)  and  '  caps '  (Saxon  cceppe) 


240  Ramble  Tenth. 

from  off  men ;  dressing  ladies  out  in  f  frocks '  (French 
/roc),  and  gentlemen  in  '  coats '  (French  cotte) ;  throw- 
ing 'shawls'  over  the  shoulders  of  the  one  sex  and 
{ surtouts '  on  the  backs  of  the  other,  and  transforming 
the  home-spun  '  braecs '  into  the  more  elegant  { panta- 
loons!' 

But  in  this  survey  of  Synonyms,  a  further  retro- 
spect is  required.  And  such  were  the  causes  that 
worked  in  the  development  of  the  English  language 
that,  besides  these  French  correlatives,  it  presents 
manifold  duplicates,  Saxon  and  Latin,  and  many 
triplicates,  Saxon,  Latin,  and  Greek — introduced  at  a 
later  day  when  the  suns  of  classic  language,  culture 
and  thought  came  with  their  vernal  and  fecundating 
influence  over  the  nascent  English  speech.  How 
many  such  duplicates  as  these  do  we  have : 

Saxon.  Latin. 

FREEDOM  LIBERTY 

FEAR  TERROR 

MEAT  VICTUALS 

DALE  VALE 

GUESS  CONJECTURE 

WEARINESS  LASSITUDE 

FATHERLY  PATERNAL 

RICH  OPULENT 


Synonyms  and  their  Suggestions.      241 

Saxon.  Latin. 

WHOLE  ENTIRE 

HIDDEN  OCCULT 

SOUR  ACID 

TAME  GENTLE 

HATE  ABHOR 

HELP  ASSIST 

DIE  EXPIRE 

BETTER  MELIORATE 

LESSEN  DIMINISH 

TRUST  CREDIT 


These  new  factors  coming  in  to  do  their  work  in 
the  growth  of  our  tongue,  the  result  was  that  many  a 
significant  combination  arose.  And  first,  we  find 
triplicates  in  which  a  Saxon,  French,  and  Latin  term 
stood  side  by  side,  each  severally  coming  gradually 
to  assert  and  assume  a  sphere  of  its  own.  Thus  from 
the  three  roots  country  (Saxon),  pays  (French),  and 
rus  (Latin) — three  synonymous  roots  from  as  many 
distinct  sources — arise  'COUNTRYMAN,'  'PEASANT,' 
and  '  RUSTIC.'  '  FORESIGHT  '  comes  to  us  a  native-bred 
home- word :  with  the  Norman  inoculation  came  '  PRU- 
DENCE,' etymologically  an  exact  synonym  of  the 
foregoing :  but,  not  satisfied  with  this  duality,  writers 
in  the  course  of  time  went  back  to  the  Eoman  idiom 
and  imported  thence  'PROVIDENCE,'  whereof  'PRU- 

11 


24.2 


Ramble  Tenth. 


DEXCE'  is  simply  the  French  form. 
( French  )=rex  (Latin ) :  '  Kingly '  = '  royal ' = '  regal.' 
And  here  are  a  few  additional  -triplets  that  come 
under  this  same  category :  '  bold,'  '  brave,'  i  intrepid ' 
— 'wrath,'  'rage,'  'ire' — 'leave,'  'abandon,'  'desert' 
— 'bear,'  '  support,' ' tolerate  ' — 'east,'  'levant,'  'ori- 
ent'— 'lust,'  'desire,'  'cupidity — 'chosen,  'recherche,' 
'  elegant'  ('  select '). 

But  I  must  advance,  in  the  cozenage  of  words,  to 
importations  made  at  once  from  Latin  and  Greek. 
And  perhaps  the  briefest  way  will  be  for  me  to 
tabulate  a  handful  or  so  out  of  the  multitudes  of 
these  correlatives. 


Saxon. 

Latin. 

Greek. 

STARRY 

SlDERIAL 

ASTRAL 

SPEECH 

LANGUAGE 

DIALECT 

SAW 

PROVERB 

•  APHORISM 

WAYWARD 

ERRATIC 

ECCENTRIC 

WELL-BRED 

AFFABLE 

POLITE 

AIM 

VIEW 

SCOPE 

GUESS 

CONJECTURE 

HYPOTHESIS 

CURSE 

MALEDICTION 

ANATHEMA 

STRESS 

ACCENT 

EMPHASIS 

FOE 

OPPONENT 

ANTAGONIST 

TALE 

NOVEL 

STORY 

PITHY 

CONCISE 

LACONIC 

I  invite  to  an  exploration  of  these  and  similar 


Synonyms  and  their  Suggestions.      243 

groups — many  a  curious  fact  or  fancy  will  they  reveal. 
Take  the  triplet  '  foe ' — l  opponent ' — '  antagonist,'  for 
example.  The  Saxon  '  FOE/  has  its  connections  in 
the  Teutonic  verbs  feon,  fian*  to  hate,  and  means 
(any  one)  hated — and  hence  is  of  these  terms  the  one 
that  carries  with  it  the  burden  of  the  most  active  hos- 
tility ;  *  OPPONENT,'  indeed,  is  one  who  is  pitted  against 
(ob  and  pono)  another,  while  'ANTAGONIST'  has  its 
origin  in  the  antagonistes  of  the  Grecian  games.  Or 
consider  this  group — '  wayward,'  '  erratic,'  *  eccentric :' 
on  what  a  vivid  perception  of  character  do  they  rest. 
'WAYWARD'  is  just  away-waxd— the  tendency  to 
be  off  and  away — an  image  perfectly  realized  by 
'  ERRATIC,'  which  is  the  being  given  to  erring,  or 
wandering — 

"  The  extravagant  and  erring  spirit  hies 

To  his  confines." 

Hamlet. 

''  ECCENTRIC  '  is  an  importation  from  geometry,  typi- 
fying the  tendency  to  depart  from  the  centre — "  flying 
off  in  a  tangent"  from  the  centred  round  of  customary 
thinkings  and  actings.  Or  explore  the  suggestions  in 
this  group — 'tale,'  'novel,'  'story.'  .'TALE 'has  its 

*  '  FIEND  '  is  the  present  participle  of  this  verb,  and  signifies 
the  hater.  The  interjections  '  FIE  '  '  FOH  '  and  '  FAUGH  '  have  all 
a  like  genesis. 


244  Ramble  Tenth. 

roots  in  the  verb  to  tell,  and  hence  is  properly  con- 
fined to  a  short  narrative  within  the  compass  of  conver- 
sational convenience,  and  fitted  to  amuse  the  hearer ; 
'STOKY,'  however,  in  its  very  origin  professes  to  be 
true  (historw),  while  the  primary  characteristic  of  the 
'NOVEL'  is  that  it  have  novelty*  Finally,  of  the 
group  'pithy,'  'concise,'  and 'laconic;'  ' PITHY '  claims 
to  shut  up  in  a  small  compass  much  pith,  much  of  the 
spine  and  spirit  of  the  matter  under  consideration ; 
while  '  CONCISE  '  (condsus,  cut  off)  prunes  and  lops  off 
all  verbal  excess  and  redundancy,  and  '  LACONIC  '  is 
after  the  fashion  of  the  Lacones  or  men  of  Laconia — 
the  Spartans — a  grave,  brief,  sententious  race. 

Having  taken  this  historical  coup-d'oeil  of  Syno- 
nyms, it  may  be  permitted  us  to  enter  into  the  subject 
with  somewhat  more  of  freedom.  It  is  curious  to 
observe  how,  in  the  final  assortment  of  correlative 
terms,  the  national  instinct  wrought  on  each,  and 
what  is  the  fate  that  has  befallen  these  several  ana- 
logues— how  the  degrees  of  praise  and  blame,  of  merit 
and  demerit  have  varied  with  the  pulsings  of  the  popu- 
lar heart.  Of  this  action  such  words  as  '  womanly ' — 
'  feminine ; '  '  boyish ' — '  puerile  ; '  '  lively ' — '  vital ; ' 
'  friendly ' — '  amical,'  etc.,  afford  illustrations.  As  far 

*  Taylor :  Synonyms  Discriminated. 


Synonyms  and  their  Suggestions.      245 

as  composition  goes,  'WOMANLY'  and  'FEMININE'  are 
entirely  coincident  and  correspondent:  and  yet  see 
how  the  formative  popular  energy  has  wrought  on 
these  words.  For  who  does  not  perceive  that  there  is 
something  infinitely  loving  in  'WOMANLY,'  that  *  FEMI- 
NINE' (which  merely  denotes  that  which  pertains  to 
woman  as  the  opposite  sex — and  for  which  womanish 
was  formerly  employed)  can  lay  no  claim  to  ?  Chau- 
cer's beautiful  lines  come  in  here  with  expressive 

significance : 

• 

"  I  see  wel  that  ye  have  on  my  distresse 
Compassion,  my  faire  Canese, 
Of  veray*  womanly  benignitie, 
That  nature  in  your  principles  hath  set." 

The  JSquieres  Tale. 

On  the  other  hand,  a  passage  from  Milton  will  set 
(  FEMININE  '  in  almost  too  clear  a  light. 

"  Yet  the  fourth  time  when  mustering  all  her  wiles, 
With  blandisht  parlies,  feminine  assaults, 
Tongue-batteries,  she  surceased  not  day  nor  night 
To  storm  me  overwatched  and  wearied  out." 

Samson  Agonistes. 

1  CHILDLIKE  '  is  a  very  beautiful  and  ingenuous 
*  What  we  write  very;  'VERY'  is,  therefore,  just  truly — vrai. 


246  Ramble  Tenth. 

term,  and  yet  'IXFANTIXE'  or  'INFANTILE,'  albeit  just 
the  Latin  therefor,  have  none  of  its  charming  sim- 
plicity— nay,  they  are  altogether  '  childish,'  although 
it  may  not  be  unworthy  of  note  that  even  it  had  for- 
merly precisely  the  meaning  of  *  childlike,'  as  in  the 
following : 

"  Charitie  is  a  childish  thing,  as  holi  churche  wittnesseth  nisi 
efficiamini  sicut  parvuli. 

Piers  Ploughman,  p.  280. 

There  is  nothing  offensive  about  '  BOYISH,'  and  yet 
who  would  wish  to  be  charged  with  being  '  PUERILE,' 
either  in  word  or  deed  ?  Dryden  introduced  {  BOY- 
ISM,'  but  I  know  not  that  it  survived  him.  It  is 
instructive  to  observe  how  the  balance  of  Compensa- 
tion in  time  equalizes  and  adjusts  every  thing:  for 
even  '  PUERILE  '  had  once  nothing  contemptuous  about 
it,  but  was,  in  fact,  precisely  analogous  to  our  present 
acceptation  of  *  BOYISH.'  An  instance  of  this  from 
Anthony-a-Wood  suggests  itself: 

"  Franciscus  Junius  was  born  at  Heidelberg  a  famous  city  and 
university  of  Germany  an.  1589,  educated  in  puerile  learning  at 
Leyden,"  etc. 

Athence  Oxon. 

Compare  the  home-bred   'LIVELY'  with  the  im- 


Synonyms  and  their  Suggestions.      247 

ported  'VITAL.'  Is  there  not  something  more  in 
'LIVELY7  than  the  mere  possession  of  vitality — a 
something  of  quickness  and  vivacity  superadded 
thereto  which  *  VITAL  '  possesses  not,  and  which  for 
ever  prevents  them  from  coalescing?  'FRIENDLY,' 
too — can  it  be  because  it  is  a  tone  of  our  old  mother 
tongue? — seems  to  wear  an  infinitely  more  winning 
smile,  and  an  infinitely  warmer  heart  than  does  the 
morerstately  (  AMICAL,'  or  the  somewhat  frigid  '  AMI- 
CABLE.' 

But,  if  our  strong  Saxonisms  sometimes  have  the 
advantage  over  their  high-born  Southern  sisters,  the 
reverse  is  oft  times  the  case  :  the  Omnipresent,  Omni- 
potent Law  of  Compensation  which  balances  granules 
and  gravitation  here  also  makes  itself  felt,  and  uner- 
ringly adjusts  the  terms  of  the  great  linguistic  equa- 
tion. '  BLOODY  '  and  '  SANGUINE  '  afford  an  illustra- 
tion to  the  point.  For  though  from  analogous  roots 
(sanguis  =  blood) — yet  has  the  Latin  by  far  the  milder 
meaning — implying,  at  present,  rather  that  expectant, 
confiding  disposition  that  is  generally  found  in  union 
with  an  ardent  temperament  and  a  copious  flow  of 
blood.  Chapman,  however,  frequently  employs  it  as 
synonymous  with  bloody.  As  here  : 

"  Sharpe  axes,  turbils,  two-hand  swords,  and  spears 
with  two  heads  borne, 


248  Ramble  Tenth. 

Were  then  the  weapons :  faire  short  swords  with 

sanguine  hilts  still  worn, 
Had  use  in  like  sort."  Iliad,  XV* 

1  WORLDLY  '  and  '  EARTHLY  '  have  clustered  much 
of  their  meaning  round  ethical  pivots — worldly  im- 
plying the  being  too  much  attached  to  the  world — to 

"  This  earthly  load 
Of  death  called  life :" 

whereas  'MUNDANE'  and  'TERRESTRIAL'  (and 
'EARTHY,'  too,)  have  to  a  much  greater  extent  pre- 
served their  merely  expletive  and  definitive  acceptation. 
This  principle,  indeed,  we  find  running  through  a 
very  prolific  class  of  synonyms :  the  Saxon  adjective 
being  the  homely,  hearty,  common  word — with,  per- 
chance, a  poetic  or  sentimental  sense  superadded 
thereto:  while  the  Latin  remains  literal — rigid  and 
scientific.  Instances  innumerable  might  be  adduced 
in  illustration.  ,  'HEARTY'  may  be  no  more  than 
'  cordial,'  yet  is  it  much  more  than  '  cardiac ;'  while 
what  is  quite  'salutary'  may  not  always  be  very 
'  healthy.'  There  is  poetry  in  '  sunny '  and  '  starry ' 

*  But  the  heroic  translator  of  the  old  blind  Bard  is  frequently 
very  erratic  in  his  use  of  words — almost  always  employing 
them  in  their  literal,  classic  sense.  Thus  for  the  word  in  its 
above  acceptation,  we  now  use  '  SANGUINARY.' 


UNIVERSITY 


Synonyms  and  their 

and  'fiery'  and  'icy'  and  'glassy,'  but  nof 
can  be  extracted  from  '  solar '  or  '  stellar'  ('  astral,' 
'  sidereal,'  etc.)  or  '  igneous '  or  '  glacial '  or  vitre- 
ous'— the  corresponding  adjectives  of  Latin  origin. 
'  Hairy'  cannot  be  defined  by  'capillary,'  nor  'handy' 
by  'manual,'  while  'doggish  '  ('  dogged,'  etc.)  has  an 
innate  snappish  and  cynic  force  that  is  not  responded 
to  by  '  canine.'  No  poet  would  hesitate,  as  to  beauty 
and  expressiveness,  between  '  nightly '  and  '  noctur- 
nal,' or  between  'wintry'  and  'brumal,'  even  though 
he  might  not  remember  that  our  Saxon  forefathers 
were  wont  to  count  time  by  nights,  and  the  years  of 
their  \ife-time  by  winters.*  It  is  not,  however, 
always  the  case  that  the  Latin  retains  the  literal, 
while  the  Saxon  receives  the  metaphorical  applica- 
tion. Thus  '  woody '  is  nearer  the  literal  truth  than 
is  '  sylvan ' — even  though  it  has  its  root  in  the  Eoman 
forest  (sylva). 

It  frequently  happens,  too,  that  the  presence  of 
these  various  factors  in  our  language  has  made  strange 
work  with  the  parts  of  speech.  And  significant  among 
these  results  is  the  existence  of  numerous  couplets, 
whereof  the  substantive  is  a  Saxonism,  the  adjective 

*  Traces  of  this  crop  out  in  our  terms  sennight  and  fortnight^ 
i..e  seven  nights ;  fourteen  nights  (hence). 

11* 


250  Ramble  Tenth. 

a  classicism.  Thus  though  'MIND'  is  a  primitive 
Saxon  vocable,  the  English  genius  never  succeeded 
in  elaborating  for  itself  a  term  expressive  of  having 
relation  to  the  mind :  straightway  it  was  compelled  to 
have  recourse  to  the  Latin,  importing  thence,  for  that 
purpose,  the  word  *  MENTAL  '  (mens,  mind) — a  word 
well  fitted  for  adjective  expression.  So,  being  was 
forced  to  go  forth  and  find  abstract  realization  in 
'ESSENTIAL;'  thing  in  'REAL;'  reason  in  'RATIONAL;' 
root  in  '  RADICAL  ;'  kind  in  '  GENERAL,'  and  will  in 
'  VOLUNTARY.'  Would  it  be  to  divide  too  nicely  to 
say  that  the  omnipresent  laws  of  Race  work  here  too : 
and  that  the  fact  of  the  English  speech  never  having 
been  able  to  attain  to  free  intellectual  abstractions, 
from  roots  within  itself,  runs  parallel  with  that  pow- 
erful practicality  and  realism  that  has  always  so 
markedly  characterized  the  English  stock.  Let  me 
illustrate  somewhat  more  at  length.  Ground  is  a 
good  strong  nervous  word ;  and  yet  we  are  fain  to  go 
to  the  Latin,  take  their  corresponding  word — humus 
— convert  it  into  an  adjective  (humilis),  put  it  through 
the  French  crucible,  and  then  inoculate  it  on  our 
language,  looking  very  '  HUMBLE  '  indeed.  All  our 
senses  have  gone  the  same  way.  'Twould  be  vulgar 
to  use  the  'NOSE'  for  'SMELLING,'  but  the  'NASAL' 
organ  for  'OLFACTORY'  purposes!  'HEARING'  trans- 


Synonyms  and  their  Suggestions.      251 

forms  itself  into  '  AUDITORY,'  and  I  know  not  how 
we  could  otherwise  express  * auricular  confession.' 
Yet  we  would  not  receive  'eye-proof,'  but  ''ocular 
demonstration,'  while  for  adjectives  we  must  travel 
to  Greece  and  Kome — stealing  away  'OPTIC'  and 
'VISUAL.'  Shall  we  say  'tasty?1  A  milliner,  as 
Coleridge  remarks,  might !  What  then  ?  Why,  '  GUS- 
TATORY,' '  JESTHETIC,'  or  what  not.  Science,  too,  with 
its  mighty  modern  strides,  has  been  compelled  to 
seek  symbols  in  these  antique  fountains.  Thus  tooth 
finds  a  correlative  in  '  dental ;'  lungs  in  '  pulmonary ;' 
lip  in  'labial;'  navel  in  'umbilical;'  marroiv  in  'me- 
dullary;' elbow  in  'cubital;'  breast  in  'pectoral;'  foot 
in  'pedal;'  birth,  in  'natal;'  cat  in  'feline;'  calf  in. 
'feline;'  cow  in  'vaccine;'  eagle  in  'aquiline;'  horse 
in  '  equine ;'  house  in  '  domestic.'  So  the  very 

Simple.  Complex, 

MEAL  FARINACEOUS 

SWEAT  SUDORIFIC 

SLEEP  SOPORIFEROUS 

FEAR  £>  TIMOROUS 

CD 

THANKS  ^  GRATUITOUS 

HELP  DQ  AUXILIARY 

HIRE  MERCENARY 

SEA  *  MARITIME 

LEAP  DESULTORY 

NOISE  OBSTREPEROUS 

ALMS  ELEEMOSYNARY  1 


252  Ramble  Tenth. 

Dormer  and  Blitzen !  Seven  syllables  out  of  one ! 
But  let  Home  Tooke  give  us  the  why  and  the 
wherefore. 

"  With  the  Christian  religion  were  very  early  intro- 
duced to  our  ancestors  the  Greek  words,  Church, 
Parish,  People,  Alms:  which  they  corrupted  and  used 
as  substantives,  a  long  time  before  they  wanted  them 
in  an  adjectived  state.  When  the  latter  time  arrived, 
they  were  incapable  of  adjectiving  these  words  them- 
selves, and  were  therefore  forced  to  seek  them  in  the 
original  language.  Hence  the  Adjectives  are  not  so 
corrupt  as  the  Substantives.  And  hence  the  strange 
appearance  of  Eleemosynary,  a  word  of  seven  syllables, 
as  the  Adjective  of  the  monosyllable  Alms;  which 
itself  became  such  by  successive  corruptions  of  ELEE- 
MOSUNE  long  before  its  Adjective  was  required: 
having  successively  exhibited  itself  as  Almosine, 
Almosie,  Almose,  Almes,  and  finally  Alms ;  whilst  in 
the  French  language  it  appeared  as  Almosine,  Almosne, 
Aumosne,  Aumone"* 

The  rounds  that  words  make  are  indeed  often 
curiously  erratic.  Thus  the  Latin  adjective  salvus 
becomes  transformed  into  the  French  sauf,  whence  it 
comes  to  us  in  the  shape  of  '  SAFE,'  from  this  we  form, 
also,  '  SAFETY.'  But  an  analogous  word  being  found 

*  Diversions  of  Parley,  p.  639. 


Synonyms  and  their  Suggestions.      253 

necessary  for  a  spiritual  application,  we  went  back 
again  to  the  Latin  and  transferred  their  salvatio  into 
our  'SALVATION:'  'SALVATION'  and  'SAFETY'  are 
therefore,  properly,  one  word — being  differenced  only 
by  the  process  of  derivation. 

And,  by  the  way,  it  is  instructive  to  observe  the 
very  widely  divergent  words  that  we  frequently  find 
formed  from  one  root.  So  widely  divergent  that  they 
oftentimes  appear  to  have  no  connection  with  each 
other ;  and  it  is  only  the  Ariadne-thread  of  Etymology 
that  gives  us  a  clue  through  the  labyrinth  of  verbal 
forms.  The  words  'PITY'  and  'PIETY'  afford  an 
instructive  example.  These  emotions  the  Spanish, 
Portuguese,  Italian  and  Latin  languages  all  unite  in 
expressing  by  one  and  the  same  term.  The  Latin 
furnishes  the  radix  from  which  all  the  others  spring. 
For  '  PIETAS  '  implies  that  state  of  feeling  which  causes 
us  to  act  rightly  both  towards  the  gods  and  towards 
men ;  and  since  tenderness  and  compassion  are  prime 
elements  in  this  beautiful  passion,  there  was  no  neces- 
sity felt  for  separating  them  by  diverse  terms.  Nor 
was  it  until  the  French  made  the  unnatural  divorce 
(and  the  English  here,  as  in  so  many  instances,  blindly 
followed  them*)  that  both  things  &nd  words  came  to 

*    "  Whose  manners  still  our  tardy  apish  nation, 

Limps  after  in  base  imitation." — Richard  II.  ii.  1. 


254  Ramble  Tenth. 

be  sundered  in  form  and  substance.     And  jet  does 
aot  Dan  Chaucer  tell  us : 

"Lo,  pitee  renneth  sone  in  gentil  herte  !" 

1  PROPERTY  '  and  *  PROPRIETY/  again,  are  both  from 
one  root — proprius,  special,  proper  (in  the  old  sense 
and  equivalent  to  the  French  propre) :  l  PROPERTY  ' 
is,  therefore,  that  which  is  specially  or  peculiarly 
one's  own  ;  '  PROPRIETY  '  is  the  adaptation  of  conduct 
etc.  to  the  special  occasion — the  instinctive  perception 
of  that  course  that  is  proper,  fitting  thereto.  Among 
the  Romans  a  Palronus  was  a  person  who  had  eman- 
cipated his  slave,  but  still  retained  some  right  over 
him — was,  as  it  were,  a  sort  of  father — pater — to  him 
— one  who  was  to  be  looked  up  to  with  veneration, 
and  regarded  as  an  exemplar  which  he  might  copy  : 
'PATRON'  and  'PATTERN'  are,  therefore,  originally 
one  and  the  same  word.  The  French  verb  parler,  to 
speak,  gives  us  two  distinct  words,  '  PARLOR  '  and 
'PARLIAMENT' — in  which,  however,  it  will  not  be 
difficult  to  trace  the  bond  of  union.  For  the  '  PAR- 
LOR' (parloir)  is  properly  the  room  in  a  nunnery 
where  the  nuns  are  permitted  to  meet  and  converse 
with  each  other — and  so  the  common  room  for  meet- 
ing, speaking,  etc.,  distinct  from  the  '  DRAWING  '  room, 
or  rather  the  withdrawing  room.  As  for  'PARLIA- 


Synonyms  and  their  Suggestions.      255 

MENT,'  it  is  preeminently  the  parlementum — the  speak- 
ing (very  often  only),  the  spouting  place  1 

We  saw  some  time  ago  that  '  JOURNEY  '  originally 
signified  the  distance  travelled — dans  uujour,  in  a  day. 
The  root  is  the  Latin  dies,  a  day.  This,  in  the  Italian, 
transforms  itself  into  giorno  ;  as  in  Dante, 

"  Lo  giorno  se  n'andava,  e  1'ser  bruno 
Toglieva  gli  animal,  che  sono  in  terra, 
Dalle  faticheloro;"  etc. 

Inferno,  Canto  II. 

And  the  French,  by  a  still  further  transformation, 
convert  it  into  jour:  thence  it  will  not  be  difficult  to 
perceive  that  a  journal  means  a  record  of  daily  trans- 
actions. Not  originally,  however ;  for  we  know  that 
in  old  English  literature  it  is  used  in  the  literal  sense 
of  daily.  As  in  Shakspeare, 

"  Ere  since  the  sun  had  made  his  journal  greeting 
To  the  under  generation." 

Measure  for  Measure,  IV.  3. 

Or  in  Spencer, 

"  And  his  faint  steedes  watred  in  ocean  deepe, 
Whiles  from  their  journall  labors  they  did  rest." 

Fairie  Queene  I.}  XI.  31. 


256  Ramble  Tenth. 

But,  having,  as  we  have  seen,  acquired  a  special 
signification,  in  order  to  supply  the  deficit  we  went 
back  to  the  Latin,  and  taking  their  adjective  diurnus 
made  'DIURNAL'  out  of  it.  'JOURNEY,'  'JOURNAL/ 
'  DIARY,'  '  DIURNAL,'  are,  therefore,  all  from  one  root, 
the  seminal  force  of  all  being  dies,  a  day. 

Although  according  to  one  acceptation  of  the  word, 
a  *  man  of  honor '  may  not  always  be  a  man  of  '  HON- 
ESTY ;'  yet  are  both  these  words  from  the  same  root : 
or  rather  honestus  is  properly  the  adjective  formed 
from  honor  and  consequently  signifying  the  highest 
degree  of  that  quality.  *  HOST  '  and  '  HOSTILE  '  are 
both  from  one  root :  and,  not  to  dwell  on  the  subject, 
so  are: 


PASSION 

and 

PASSIVE 

NATURE 

M 

NATION 

MUSTER 

it 

MONSTER 

INGENUOUS 

M 

INGENIOUS 

INFERIOR 

(( 

INFERNAL 

COFFER 

a 

COFFIN 

BRAND 

« 

BRUNT 

CUSTOM 

M 

COSTUME 

CUPID 

M 

CUPIDITY 

MODISH 

If 

MODEST,  etc.  etc. 

From  the  fact  of  the  English  being  a  mixed  Ian- 


Synonyms  and  their  Suggestions.      257 

guage  spring  some  curious  results.  One — and  a  very 
lamentable  one — is,  that  by  far  the  larger  portion  of 
those  who  speak  our  language — who  are 

" Native  here 


And  to  the  manner  born," — 

have  no  distinct  idea  of  the  signification  of  three- 
fourths  of  the  words  in  their  so  called  "mother 
tongue."  Of  Saxon  roots  we  have,  as  it  were,  an 
innate  realization  :  they  sound  like  old  familiar  tones 
— snatches  of  melodies  that  we  learned  long,  long 
ago ;  but  the  verbal  stems  from  the  classic  tongues, 
and,  consequently,  the  immense  number  of  offshoots 
therefrom,  seem  all  alien  and  away.  And,  in  our  hete- 
rogeneous language,  how  frequent  are  the  misappli- 
cations and  misunderstandings  of  words ;  and  how 
available  an  opportunity  does  it  afford  for  sophisms, 
grandiloquence  and  verbal  quirks  and  quibbles  of 
every  species.* 

*  [Words]  "being  philosophically  unfolded,  several  of  those 
pretended  mysteries,  profound  notions,  expressed  in  great 
swelling  words,  whereby  some  were  set  up  for  reputation,  being 
this  way  examined,  will  appear  to  be  either  nonsense,  or  very 
flat  and  jejune." 

Bishop  Wilkins :  "  Real  Character  and  Philosophic  Language." 
Epist:  Dedicatory. 


258  Ramble  Tenth. 

Archbishop  Whately  has  observed  that  the  double 
origin  of  our  language,  from  Saxon  and  Norman 
material,  may  often  enable  a  sophist  to  assume  the 
appearance  of  rendering  a  reason,  when,  indeed,  he 
is  only  repeating  the  assertion  in  words  of  a  different 
family.  Of  this  the  following  may  be  taken  as  an 
example  :  "To  allow  every  man  an  unbounded  free- 
dom of  speech  must  always  be  on  the  whole  highly 
advantageous  to  the  state  ;  for  (!)  it  is  extremely  con- 
ducive to  the  interests  of  the  community  that  each 
individual  should  enjoy  a  liberty  perfectly  unlimited 
of  expressing  his  sentiments." 

It  is  interesting  to  observe  the  family  of  words 
which  foreigners — according  to  the  affinity  of  their 
language  to  the  several  elements  of  the  English — 
employ.  Thus  a  German  will  be  sure  to  use 
'  SMEARED,'  whereas  a  Frenchman,  Spaniard,  or  Ital- 
ian would  just  as  certainly  hit  on  '  ANOINTED.'  So 
while  a  native  of  Southern  Europe  would  naturally 
talk  of  the  'PROPINQUITY'  of  a  place,  a  German 
would  inevitably  speak  of  its  '  NEARNESS.'  Saxoni- 
cus  persists  in  speaking  of  the  '  thorougJifaresomeness ' 
of  stuff,  in  preference  to  the  ' penetrability '  of  matter ; 
and,  on  the  other  hand,  (for  classical  scholars  are 
very  apt,  without  careful  pruning,  to  interlard  the 
discourse  too  plentifully  with  Greek  and  Latin)  we 


Synonyms  and  their  Suggestions.      259 

Lave  heard  of  an  Oxford  fellow  of  a  college  who,  on 
meeting  a  friend  on  horse-back,  as  the  only  way 
which  suggested  itself  of  asking  him  if  it  (the  horse) 
were  his  own  or  hired  or  borrowed,  demanded  if  it 
were  proprietary,  conductitious  or  eleemosynary  /* 

The  same  peculiarity  discovers  itself  in  writers — 
some  of  whom  seem  to  have  an  instinctive  affinity  for 
the  Saxon  element,  while  others  are  just  as  enamored 
of  Latin  derivatives.  Thus  the  Saxonisms  of  Dean 
Swift  and  the  Latinisms  of  Dr.  Johnson  are  as  charac- 
teristic as  they  are  familiar.  Home  Tooke  has  some 
keen  and  caustic  passages  on  the  neglect  of  develop- 
ing the  Teutonic  element  in  our  language,  and  im- 
porting so  many  foreign  words,  where  native  ones 
would  do  as  well  or  better.  Quaint,  old  Verstegan, 
also,  has  some  good  things  on  the  same  subject.  The 
following  for  instance: — "For  my  own  part  I  think 
them  deceaved  that  think  our  speech  bettered  by  the 
aboundance  of  our  dayly  borrowed  woords,  for  they 
beeing  of  another  nature  and  not  originally  belonging 
to  our  language  do  not,  neither  can  they  in  our  toung 
leave  their  natural  and  true  dery  vations :  and  there- 
fore as  wel  may  we  fetch  woords  fro  the  Ethiopians 
or  East  or  West  Indians,!  and  thrust  them  into  our 

*  Philological  Museum. 

t  So  we  have — quite  a  number  of  them. 


260  Ramble  Tenth. 

language  and  baptize  all  by  the  name  of  English,  as 
those  which  wee  dayly  take  from  the  Latin,  or  lan- 
guages thereon  depending :  heer-hence  it  cometh  (as 
by  after  experience  is  found)  that  some  Englishmen 
discoursing  together,  others  beeing  present  and  of  our 
own  nation  and  that  naturally  speak  the  English 
tongue  are  not  able  to  understand  what  the  others 
say,  notwithstanding  they  call  it  English  what  they 
speake  !"* 

The  most  amusing  part  in  the  above  passage  of 
honest  Yerstegan  is  that  over  a  half  of  the  words 
are  "from  the  Latin,  or  languages  thereon  depend- 
ing !"  Let  us  strike  the  balance.  A  composition 
confined  exclusively  to  the  Saxon  element,  would, 
in  all  likelihood,  be  as  stiff  and  unwieldy  as,  if 
totally  of  Latin,  it  would  be  flat  or  farcical.  But 
in  what  admirable  harmony  are  the  several  mem- 
bers of  our  great  language  united !  With  its  Saxon 
spine  and  heart,  animated  with  the  breath  of 
Latin  verbs  and  winged  with  Greek  substantives,  it 
presents  an  organism  perfect  for  all  the  purposes 
of  practical  and  spiritual  expression — a  language 
"  which,"  in  the  words  of  one  of  the  profoundest  of 
modern  philologists,  Jacob  Grimm,  "  in  wealth,  good 

*  Restitution  of  Decayed  Intelligence,  p.  205. 


Synonyms  and  their  Suggestions.       261 

sense  and  clearness  of  structure  outrivals  all  other 
of  the  languages  at  this  day  spoken." 

I  am  digressing,  however,  too  far  :  so  let  us  return 
to  our  Synonyms. 

An  interesting  class  of  Synonyms  are  such  as  result 
from  an  exact  similarity  of  composition,  one  of  the 
pair  being  taken,  perchance,  from  the  Latin,  the  other 
from  the  Greek.  Thus  natura  =  phusis  (<pytfif),  and 
super  =  meta  (fA£<ra) :  '  supernatural '  =  '  metaphysical.' 
Pono  =  tithemi  (T/^JUU),  and  sub  =  hupo  (too ) :  '  suppo- 
sition '  =  '  hypothesis.'  Sun  (<fw)  =  con  ;  and  metron 
(fAsY^ov)  =  mensura :  '  symmetrical '  =  '  commensurate.' 
Con  =  sun  (tfov),  and  gredior  =  ago  (ctyw) :  '  congrega- 
tion '  =  *  synagogue.'  Sus  (contracted  from  sursum) 
=  up,  and  teneo  —  hold :  *  sustain  '  =  *  uphold.'  Super 
=  over,  and  fluens  =  flowing:  l  superfluity '  =  '  over- 
flowing.' Of  these  various  verbal  equations,  each 
member  severally  is,  etymologically,  precisely  equal 
to  its  opposite :  and  yet  in  actual  use,  see  what  a  dis- 
parity frequently  intervenes  between  them  I  I  have 
mentioned  '  congregation '  and  *  synagogue '  as  being, 
as  far  as  derivation  goes,  exactly  equivalent:  the 
same  may  be  said  of  *  Bible '  and  '  Alcoran ' — the 
latter  being  Arabic  for  the  former's  Greek.  And, 
indeed,  these  transcripts  are  often  quite  surprising. 


262  Ramble  Tenth. 

'Domineer'  (dominus,  a  lord)  is,  for  instance,  pre- 
cisely to  'lord  it  over;'  'momentous'  is  just 
'weighty;'  'trenchant'  is  'cutting;'  'specious'  is 
'sightly;'  'pardon'  is  'forgive;'  'sermon'  is  'speech;' 
'  dictum '  is  a  '  saying  ;'  '  surveyor '  is  '  overseer ; 
'  liberal '  is  '  free ;'  '  potent '  is  '  able '  and  '  quantity  ' 
is  '  how  much  ?'  Sometimes,  again,  we  find  a  digni- 
fied classicism  to  be  just  the  translation  of  some 
homely  piece  of  vernacular.  Thus  when  we  say  to 
'  circumvent '  (circum,  around  and  venio,  to  come),  we 
simply  say,  in  Latin,  to  'come  round.'  So,  to  'connive' 
is  literally  to  'wink  at;'  'punctilious'  is  'pointed,7 
and  to  '  resist '  is  to  '  take  a  stand  against.'  It  is 
pleasant  thus  to  discover  ourselves  unconscious  ety- 
mologists, and  bandying  the  same  hearty  idioms  as 
resounded  through  the  streets  of  Eome  and  Athens 
twenty  centuries  ago.  Then,  there  is  the  burlesque 
of  Synonymy — extensive  domain  on  which  I  have 

just  now  no  time  to  enter.     As  if,  for  instance,  one 

^\ 

being  '  hard  up '  were  to  say  that  he  was  in  a  state 

of  '  indurated  loftiness,'  or  playfully  allude  to  a  cer- 
tain enigmatical  individual  as  the  '  antique  Henry.' 

And  new  vistas  open  upon  the  suggestions  of  Syno- 
nyms. How  profoundly  significant  are  these  correla- 
tives often  of  national  characteristics !  What  subtle 
glimpses  do  they  afford  into  national  manners  and 


Synonyms  and  their  Suggestions.       263 

morals!  The  distinction,  for  instance,  which  etymo- 
logic anatomy  lays  bare,  between  the  Teutonic  '  ban- 
ish '  and  the  Koman  '  exile '  gives  us  an  insight  into 
certain  fundamental  social  characteristics.  For  '  ban- 
ish '  is  evidently  the  being  subjected  to  the  ban*  or 
proclamation — whence  we  gather  that  the  French  and 
Teutonic  mode  of  punishment  was  by  public  proclama- 
tion ;  whereas  the  Latin  '  exile '  as  clearly  points  to 
exsikre  as  its  root — suggesting  Cicero's  definition — 
"  perfugium  potius  supplicii,  non  supplicum."f 

So  in  one  of  the  triplets  before  given  we  read  the 
various  national  ideas  of  the  commodious.  To  the 
practical  Saxon  it  is  what  is  *  handy'  i-.e.  to  his  hand; 
the  Frenchman,  however,  regards  it  as  *  suitable ' 
(suivre,  to  follow),  i.e.  what  naturally  and  properly 
follows  (the  necessities  of  the  occasion?),  while  the 
Latin  takes  his  notion  thereof  from,  what  comes  along 
with  another,  as  being  its  natural  concomitant — and  so 

*  This  verbal  root  crops  out  through  several  compounds  and 
derivatives.  The  '  bans  of  marriage,'  for  example,  are  just  the 
proclamations  of  marriage.  So,  our  common  phrase  'to  be 
under  ban,'  is  evidently  to  be  under  sentence.  Furthermore,  to 
1  abandon '  is — a  (le)  ban  donner — to  give  over  to  the  ban.  And 
a  '  bandit '  is  quite  as  palpably  one  ban-dit  ban-proclaimed,  sen- 
tenced by  the  ban.  Italian  Bandito  pi.  Banditti. 

t  De  Vere's  Comparative  Philology. 


264  Ramble  Tenth. 

lie  names  it  'convenient!'  'Courteous,'  again,  which, 
of  course,  is  French  born  and  bred,  is,  to  the  pomp- 
enamored  Gallican  that  which  pertains  to  the  .graces 
gathered  at  the  cour,  or  court ;  whereas  the  straight- 
forward old  Roman  clustered  all  his  ideas  of  the 
courteous  around  one  to  whom  he  could  go  up  and 
speak — what  he  called  homo  affdbilis,  and  we  '  affable.' 


RAMBLE  ELEVENTH. 

THE   GKOWTH  OF  WORDS. 

"An  idiom  is  an  organism  subject,  like  every  organism,  to 
the  laws  of  development.  One  must  not  consider  a  language  as 
a  product  dead  and  formed  but  once :  it  is  an  animate  being  and 
ever  creative." 

Wilhelm  von  Humboldt. 

THE  conception  of  language  that  has  arisen  pro- 
phetic on  the  thought  of  modern  times  is  a  high  and 
great  one.  Speech  is  no  more  the  dead  mechanism  it 
used  to  be  conceived.  Each  language  is  a  living 
organism;  the  totality  of  languages  a  grand  series 
of  organisms,  all  built  after  the  same  archetype,  the 
same  skeleton ;  but  each  presenting  its  special  struc- 
tural stamp,  as  fish,  reptile,  bird,  mammal,  are  all 
modifications  of  one  primitive  Idea. 

Yes  !  Language  is  indeed  alive !  Primordial  crea- 
tion and  manifestation  of  the  rnind,  Language  throbs 
with  the  pulses  of  our  life.  This  is  the  wondrous 

12 


266  Ramble  Eleventh. 

babe,  begotten  of  the  blended  love  of  spirit  and  of 
matter — physical,  mystical,  the  Sphinx !  Through 
speech  man  realizes  and  incarnates  himself;  and  Oken 
has  an  oracular  utterance  that  "  without  speech  there 
is  no  world." 

It  is  one  of  the  current  wranglings,  How  language 
originated:  as  though  Language  were  not  an  innate 
energy  and  aspiration !  Language  is  not  a  cunning 
conventionalism  arbitrarily  agreed  upon :  it  is  an 
internal  necessity.  Language  is  not  a  fiction,  but  a 
truth.  Language  is  begotten  of  a  lustful  longing  to 
express,  through  the  plastic  vocal  energy,  man's 
secret  sense  of  his  unity  with  nature. 

This  vitality  of  speech  manifests  itself  in  a  two-fold 
manifestation :  in  the  possession  of  a  distinctive  per- 
sonality and  identity — in  material  elements  and  formal 
laws  that  stamp  it  with  the  stamp  of  linguistic  indi- 
viduality ;  and,  further,  in  that  other  characteristic  of 
every  living  organism — in  the  exhibition  of  growth, 
progress,  decay — in  the  ongoing  of  processes  of  ab- 
sorption, assimilation  and  elimination — in  the  in  work- 
ing and  outworking  of  the  creative  energy. 

And  it  is  in  this  sense  that  the  English  language  is 
alive — as  displaying  successive  processes  of  growth 
and  development  within  the  limits  of  its  linguistic 
individuality. 


The  Growth  of  Words.  267 

The  causes  of  that  marvelous  identity  we  call  the 
English  Language  lie  deep  in  the  manifold  influences 
that  have  made  the  English  Nation.  The  History  of 
a  Language  is  measurable  only  in  the  terms  of  all  the 
factors  that  have  shaped  a  people's  life.  A  nation's 
history  is  the  result  of  the  double  action  of  internal 
impulses  and  external  events.  And  Language  ex- 
presses the  infusions  from  all  these — subtily  absorbing 
the  ethnology  of  a  nation,  its  geography,  government, 
traditions,  culture,  faith.  Shooting  its  deep  tap-root 
into  eldest  antiquity,  drawing  from  the  pith  and  sap 
of  that  grandest  of  all  families  of  races  and  tongues — 
the  Indo-European  stock;  receiving  living  grafts 
from  France  and  Italy  and  Scandinavia,  this  divine 
tree  of  the  English  Speech  has  grown  up  into  its  sub- 
lime proportions  nurtured  by  the  history  of  a  thou- 
sand years. 

Of  this  superb  Speech — the  grandest  in  the  world 
— we  have  no  adequate  treatment.  There  is  no  His- 
tory of  the  English  Language.  Nor  any  Dictionary 
of  the  English  Language.  We  have  no  such  work 
on  the  English  Language  as  the  Germans  possess  in 
the  "  Teutonic  Grammar  "  of  Jacob  Grimm,  who  has 
with  'masterly  method  and  largest  appreciation  of 
modern  Philology,  traced  the  formative  influences 
of  the  German  speech,  as  it  has  shaped  itself  into 


268  Ramble  Eleventh. 

conscious  individuality.  A  History  of  the  English 
Language,  rising  out  of  a  full  appreciation  of  the 
Philosophy  of  Speech  (to  which  must  go  that  large 
hospitality  and  impartiality  that  flows  from  the 
thought  of  the  Ensemble),  answering  to  the  require- 
ments of  modern  research,  and  after  the  broad,  free 
methods  America  lets  down,  has  yet  to  come.  To 
the  achievement  of  this  epic  work  may  well  go  the 
loftiest  energies  of  both  branches  of  the  Anglican 
stock  and  speech ! 

How  far  would  the  Philosophy  of  the  English  Lan- 
guage reach !  What  a  retrospect  of  ages,  growths, 
processes,  accretions,  events,  forces,  impulses !  In  the 
motions  of  man's  creative  energy  how  all  is  inter- 
woven with  the  all !  How  celestial  forces  ascend  and 
descend  and  hand  each  other  the  golden  pails ! 

An  appreciation  of  the  organic  laws  of  the  English 
Language  in  its  historic  unfolding  is  inseparable  from 
considerations  that  embrace  the  ensemble  of  Lan- 
guages. For  ascending  through  the  Anglo-Saxon 
idioms  to  the  stock  to  which  they  belong — the  Ger- 
manic or  Teutonic  group  of  tongues,  we  are  here 
carried  back  into  that  grand  radiation  of  race  and 
speech  which  modern  philologic  criticism  has  for- 
muled  as  the  INDO-EUROPEAN  line  of  peoples  and 
tongues;  nor  do  we  stop  till  we  have  reached  the 


The  Growth  of  Words.  269 

Persian  and  Indian  fountains  of  wisdom  and  lan- 
guage. Thus  it  is  that  it  is  only  by  embracing  causes, 
forces  and  impulses  as  old  as  the  Japhetic  man  that 
we  can  rise  to  a  full  appreciation  of  the  Philosophy 
of  the  English  Language. 

The  Japhetites*  embrace  the  noblest  antique  and 
later  races — the  Brahminic  Indians,  the  Persians, 
Medians,  Greeks,  Komans  and  European  peoples — 
theirs  those  noble  and  highly  developed  languages, 
the  Sanskrit,  Zend,  Persian,  Hellenic,  Latin,  Ger- 
manic, Keltic,  Teutonic.  In  the  Yedas  of  the  Indians, 
especially  the  hymns  of  the  Eig-Veda,  and  in  the 
Zend-Avesta  of  the  Persians — primeval  documents  of 
the  Iranic  world — we  see  the  germs  of  all  we  call 
Europe.  Here  were  the  beginnings  of  the  cultures  of 
the  occidental  world.  Science  was  born  in  that  mind, 
the  intuition  of  nature,  the  instinct  for  political  organ- 
ization and  that  direct  practical  normal  conduct  of 
life  and  affairs. 

From  this  mind,  too,  flowered  out  the  grandest  and 
most  spiritual  of  languages.  The  Japhetic  or  Iranic 
tongues  are  termed  by  the  master-philologers  the 
Organic  Group,  to  distinguish  them  from  the  Aggluti- 
native and  Inorganic  speech-floors  that  underlie  them 

*  Sometimes  termed  IRANIANS  or  ARYANS  from  Iran,  the 
native  name  of  Persia. 


270  Ramble  Eleventh. 

in  the  Geology  of  Language.  They  alone  have 
reached  the  altitude  of  free  intellectual  individuality 
and  organism.  To  them  belongs  the  splendid  plasti- 
city of  Sanskrit,  Greek,  German,  English  !  Such  are 
the  primeval  lines  in  the  genesis  of  the  English  lan- 
guage. And  so  it  is  that  sounds  and  structures — 
words  and  forms — that  were  heard  along  the  Ganges, 
five  thousand  years  ago — words  heard  in  Benares  and 
Delhi,  in  Persia  and  Greece — are  now  scaling  the 
Rocky  Mountains  of  the  Western  world  ! 

We  descend.  Crises  present  themselves  in  the 
growth  of  language,  connected  with  mighty  mental 
and  social  movements — crises  that  mark  eras  in  His- 
tory. The  English — along  with  all  the  present  idioms 
of  Europe,  French,  ProvenQal,  German,  Italian,  Span- 
ish, Portuguese — refers  itself  back  to  that  great  period 
of  ethnic  flux,  the  few  centuries  succeeding  the  disso- 
lution of  the  Roman  Empire.  This  epoch  introduces 
us  to  the  birth  of  idioms :  the  laws  that  govern  the 
development  of  language  are  here  seen  in  vital  play. 
The  two  elements  were  the  German  and  Roman. 
The  vigorous,  individual,  egotistic  German,  acting 
on  the  decaying  Latin  spoken  by  the  remains  of  the 
Romans  and  by  Keltic  populations  through  France 
and  Spain,  "  dissolved  and  as  it  were  burst  the  com- 
pact structure  of  the  Latin  tongue."  New  forces  and 


The  Growth  of  Words.  271 

affinities  came  into  action.  The  Teutonic  genius  gave 
its  own  inflections,  conjugations  and  forms,  working 
on  Latin  roots,  breaking  up  the  crystalline  structure 
of  the  classic  mould,  freeing  the  grammatical  forms 
from  their  absorption  in  the  terminations  of  nouns 
and  verbs,  and  erecting  them  into  independent  prepo- 
sitions and  auxiliaries.  This  passage  from  synthesis 
to  analysis  is  the  career  of  all  languages.  How 
markedly  is  this  visible  in  the  English !  The  glory 
of  the  English  is  that  it  is  essentially  modern — essen- 
tially unclassical. 

I  have  shown  the  admirable  marriage  of  Germanic 
and  Eoman  elements  present  at  the  birth  of  the  his* 
torical  English  Speech.  The  subsequent  history  of 
this  language  shows  the  copious  infusions  of  new  ele- 
ments and  the  unfolding  of  those  prolific  germs, 
under  the  guidance  of  the  influences,  internal  and 
external,  that  went  to  shape  the  English  nation  and 
mind. 

It  is  this  indeed  which  especially  characterizes  our 
tongue — its  eminently  composite  and  complex  struc- 
ture. It  is  to  the  scheme  of  Language  what  the 
diluvial  rocks  of  the  Secondary  formation  are  in  Geo- 
logy. And  as  these  have  been  formed  by  floods  and 
inundations — water-borne  and  crumbling  debris  of 
antique  worlds :  so  is  the  English  language  built  out 


272  Ramble  Eleventh. 

of  the  drift  and  detritus  of  other  and  elder  tongues. 
This  fact  is  in  the  line  of  the  genius  of  the  English 
race,  which  is  unequaled  in  absorption  and  assimila- 
tion, in  receptive  and  applicative  power. 

To  exhibit  in  epic  unfolding  the  harmonious  blend- 
ing of  these  formative  elements  into  the  grand  organ- 
ism of  the  English  Language  does  not  come  within 
the  scope  of  these  pages.  How  have  I  longed  to 
work  on  this  great  problem!  May  my  aspirations 
some  day  be  realized  ! 

But  within  the  brief  limits  that  are  left  me  I  may 
have  time  to  notice  some  of  the  most  eminent  contri- 
butions that  have  gone  to  the  making  of  our  language. 

And  first,  it  is  needless  for  me  to  remark  that  the 
heart  of  our  language  is  Anglo-Saxon.  This  is  the 
spine  on  which  the  structure  of  our  speech  is  hung. 
Drawing  from  the  substance  of  the  grand  Germanic 
stock — a  stock  in  which  the  instinct  of  personal  and 
political  independence  has  always  been  powerfully 
present — what  infusions  of  passion  and  power  and 
noble  manly  strength  did  our  language  thus  receive ! 
Saxon,  too,  is  the  whole  body  of  grammatical  forms 
and  inflections ;  Saxon  are  the  articulations — the  con- 
junctions, articles,  pronouns ;  Saxon  those  powerful 
instruments,  the  Prepositions  and  Auxiliaries ! 

And  yet,  had  the  Saxon  been  left  to  itself,  it  never 


The  Growth  of  Words.  273 

could  have  grown  into  the  English  tongue.  It  needed 
a  new  element.  This  it  found  in  the  Norman  French 
introduced  with  that  great  political  and  social  revolu- 
tion, the  Norman  Conquest — a  conquest  that  has 
been  made  the  theme  of  much  sentimental  twaddle, 
but  which  was  no  doubt  precisely  the  best  thing  that 
could  have  happened.  A  double  action  forthwith 
began — on  the  grammar  and  on  the  vocabulary,  the 
latter  copiously  enriching  itself  with  numerous  terms 
indicative  of  the  new  political  and  social  relations — 
of  war,  of  law — of  the  arts  and  elegancies  of  society, 
which,  having  had  no  existence  in  Saxon  life,  found 
no  utterance  in  the  Saxon  language.  In  regard  of 
Grammar — of  structural  forms  and  inflections — the 
French  influence  was  powerful,  but  indirect.  Indi- 
rect, I  say;  because  the  French  gave  few  or  any 
forms  of  its  own.  And  yet  one  can  scarcely  exagge- 
rate the  power  of  that  influence  in  freeing  the  nascent 
English  speech  from  those  useless  and  cumbersome 
forms  with  which  the  Anglo-Saxon  was  overloaded. 
"  The  Saxon  forms  soon  dropped  away,  because  they 
did  not  suit  the  new  roots;  and  the  genius  of  the 
language,  from  having  to  deal  with  newly  imported 
words  in  a  rude  state,  was  induced  to  neglect  the 
inflexions  of  the  native  ones."*  Let  a  single  illustra- 

*  Jacob  Grimm. 

12* 


274  Ramble  Eleventh. 

tion  suffice.  A  complex  system  of  the  formation  of 
the  plural  of  nouns  obtained — some  nouns  making 
that  number  in  a,  others  in  aw,  others  in  as,  others  in 
u;  the  Norman  infusion,  however,  led  to  the  adop- 
tion of  s  as  the  universal  termination  of  all  plural 
nouns,  that  being  the  French  method  and  at  the  same 
time  the  termination  of  the  ancient  Anglo-Saxon 
masculine. 

I  have  said  that  with  the  French  inoculation  a  vast 
enriching  of  the  vocabulary  took  place.  This  enrich- 
ing was  of  course  progressive — was,  indeed,  the  work 
of  centuries.  The  value  of  this  legacy  cannot  be 
overstated:  it  embraced  thousands  of  our  most  ex- 
pressive and  most  important  words.  Of  the  prodi- 
gious activity  with  which  the  French  genius  wrought 
on  the  English  language,  for  the  four  or  five  centu- 
ries succeeding  the  Conquest,  we  have  a  significant 
record  in  Chaucer.  Chaucer,  indeed,  perhaps  exagge- 
rates the  French  element ;  and  it  was  no  doubt  on 
account  of  this  penchant  that  he  in  his  own  day 
received  the  nickname  of  the  "  French  brewer."  But 
it  cannot  be  that  Chaucer  did  anything  more  than 
crystallize  into  literature  verbal  forms  already  in 
solution  among  the  floating  word-capital  of  the  day. 
For  never  otherwise  could  he  have  been  the  popular 
poet  he  was.  What  a  lusty  leap  the  English  Lan- 


The  Growth  of  Words.  275 

guage  had  taken  since  the  Norman  Conquest  the 
Canterbury  Tales  vividly  mirror  forth.  'Twas  the 
flush  of  adolescence,  rich  and  juicy  and  spendthrift: 
manhood,  compact,  equable,  had  yet  to  come.  Let 
me  quote  a  few  passages  from  Chaucer  showing  the 
average  proportion  of  French  in  his  diction.  To 
bring  it  home  to  the  eye  I  shall  italicise  the  chief 
Norman  engraftings. 

Whanne  that  April  with  his  showers  sote 
The  droughte  of  March  hath  perced  to  the  rote 
And  bathed  every  veine  in  swiche  ttcour, 
Of  which  vertue  engendred  is  the  flour : 
Whan  Zephirus  eke  with  his  sote  brethe 
Enspired  hath  in  every  holt  and  hethe 
The  tendre  croppes,  and  the  yonge  sonne 
Hath  in  the  Ram  his  halfe  cours  yronne, 
And  small  foules  maken  mdodie, 
And  slepen  all  night  with  open  eye, 
So  priketh  him  nature  in  his  corages, 
Than  longen  folk  to  gon  on  pilgrimages,  etc. 

To  Canterbury  with  devoute  courage, 
At  night  was  com  into  that  hostelrie 
Wei  nine-and-twenty  in  a  compagnie. 

At  mortal  batailles  hadde  he  been  fiftene. 
He  was  a  veray  par/it  gentil  knight. 


276  Ramble  Eleventh. 

Therfore  in  stede  of  weping  and  praiers 
Men  mote  give  silver  to  the  poure  freres* 

Th'  estat  th'  araie,  the  nombre  and  eke  the  cause. 

Were  it  by  aventure,  or  sort,  or  cas. 

In  prison 
Perpetuel,  he  n'  olde  no  raunsom. 

Of  course  amid  these  thousand-fold  French  impor- 
tations many,  many  were  not  finally  adopted  into  the 
vernacular.  Put  through  the  assay,  they  were  not 
found  fit  to  be  stamped  with  the  seal  of  popular  ac- 
ceptation. In  Chaucer  I  find  such  Gallicisms  as 
these — ( gaillard '  (gay),  l  debonair '  (good-natured), 
'devoir'  (duty),  'lointain'  (the  distance),  'jouissance' 
(enjoyment),  '  misericorde '  (tenderheartedness),  '  pier- 
rie7  (precious  stones),  'rondeur'  (roundness — the 
'  Earth's  rondeur '),  with  scores  of  such  like,  some  of 
which  will  no  doubt  again  make  their  appearance  in 
our  language,  many  of  them  expressing  thoughts  or 
things  not  so  well  expressed  by  any  we  have.  But 
as  I  shall  make  the  Unworked  Mines  of  the  English 
Language  the  theme  of  a  future  volume  I  shall  not 
be  tempted  into  farther  illustration. 

And  now  we  must  descend  the  stream  of  our  lan- 
*  What  we  now  write  '  friars :'  freres,  brothers. 


The  Growth  of  Words.  277 

guage  to  that  period  when  those  copious  tributaries 
from  the  classic  fountains  poured  their  grand  affluents 
into  the  rich  river  of  English  Speech.  And  here  we 
have  to  mention  the  deep  debt  we  owe  to  that  illus- 
trious nation,  Italy — which  for  so  many  centuries  led 
the  van  of  European  civilization — in  operating  the 
renaissance  of  Greek  and  Latin  language  and  thought. 
The  breath  of  antique  genius  passed  over  the  English 
mind  like  the  air  of  Spring,  bursting  and  blossoming 
in  luxuriant  growths  of  thought  and  speech.  The 
period  of  this  creative  movement  is  that  mighty  Six- 
teenth century,  from  the  reign  of  the  Eighth  Henry 
through  the  Elizabethan  era.  Not  by  hundreds 
merely,  one  may  say,  but  by  thousands,  were  Latin 
and  Greek  words  then  naturalized  into  the  English 
speech. 

Nor  is  the  quality  of  these  importations  of  less  sig- 
nificance. It  was  theirs  to  satisfy  the  needs  of  the 
higher  intellectual  and  spiritual  expression  which 
that  new  upsurging  from  the  spontaneous  depths  of 
human  nature  brought.  Philosophy,  Science  and 
Poetry  put  on  that  rich  feuillage  of  verbal  forms  that 
gives  such  masterly  expression  to  English  litera- 
ture In  a  word,  the  classical  contributions  furnished 
the  spiritual  conceptions,  and  endowed  the  material 
body  of  the  English  speech  with  a  living  soul.  Under 


278  Ramble  Eleventh. 

the  hands  of  the  fine  geniuses  of  the  Sixteenth  and 
Seventeenth  centuries  the  English  Language  rounded 
into  compact,  kosmic  mould. 

Of  those  three  grand  factors — Saxon,  French,  and 
Classical — is  our  language  made  up.  It  is  the  mutual 
influence  and  action  of  these  that  form  the  warp  and 
woof  of  our  English  speech.  Not  but  that  other  ele- 
ments are,  in  greater  or  smaller  proportions,  present, 
and  weave  their  threads  into  the  divine  web;  but 
these  are  the  main  sources  whence  our  language  has 
enriched  itself — these  the  main  sources  whether  of  its 
terms  or  its  powers,  of  its  material  elements  or  its 
formal  laws. 

Of  these  minor  tributaries  the  Italian,  German, 
ISTorse,  Portuguese,  Spanish,  Dutch,  deserve  special 
mention.  From  Italian  we  have  such  accretions  as 
'  virtuoso,'  *  bravo,'  '  bandit,'  '  charlatan,'  '  gazette,' 
'con  amore,'  etc.  The  maritime  and  commercial 
activity  of  the  Portuguese  during  the  Sixteenth  and 
Seventeenth  centuries  has  left  us  some  significant 
words.  Thus  '  fetishism,'  a  term  applied  by  them  to 
the  low  idolatry  and  sorcery  of  the  African  tribes,  is 
simply  the  Portuguese  feitico,  sorcery,  witchcraft. 
Their  relations  with  the  African  coast  have  also  given 
us  '  palaver ' — Portuguese  palavra,  talk,  speech  ;  and 
applied  by  them  to  a  council  of  African  chiefs.  It  is, 


The  Growth  of  Words.  279 

moreover,  to  the  long  monopoly  by  the  Portuguese 
of  the  East  Indian  trade  that  we  are  indebted  for  the 
introduction  of  various  oriental  words,  as  '  taboo ' 
from  the  Sandwich  Islands,  and  the  phrase  '  run- 
amucJc '  from  the  Malays.  The  Dutch  have  left  the 
impress  of  their  maritime  activity  on  our  language. 
' Sloop,'  for  instance,  and  '  yacht '  and  '  schooner  '  are 
all  of  Dutch  etymology.  To  later  German  we  owe 
the  suggestions  of  many  valuable  metaphysical  sym- 
bols, made  after  the  antique — not  the  least  significant 
of  which  are  the  much-used  *  objective  '  and  *  subjec- 
tive.' Nor  is  this  all,  there  being  scarce  a  tongue  on 
the  planet  which  the  all-absorbing  Saxon  genius  has 
not  laid  under  contribution  to  enrich  the  exchequer 
of  its  conquering  speech.  The  aboriginal  American 
dialects,  for  instance,  have  given  us  'tobacco,'  'wig- 
wam,' :  papouse,'  '  moccasin,'  *  Yankee,'  *  potato,' 
'  chocolate,'  and  others.  The  Slaves  have  contributed 
'plough,'  word  and  thing.  Arabia  shows  her  pow- 
erful influence  on  the  culture  of  the  Middle  Ages  in 
such  terms  as  'algebra,'  'zero,'  'almanach,'  'alkali,' 
'  alembic,'  '  elixir,'  '  alcohol,'  etc.  Hebraisms,  too, 
are  not  lacking — witness  'sabbath,'  'jubilee,'  'halle- 
lujah,' 'amen,'  'cabala,'  'Messiah,'  etc.  Turkey 
sends  us  '  tulip,'  '  turban,'  '  dragoman  ;'  Persia, 
'  bazaar,'  '  caravan,'  '  azure,'  '  scarlet ;'  China,  '  tea ' 


280  Ramble  Eleventh. 

and  'Nankeen;'  Hindostan,  'calico,  'chintz,'  'curry,' 
'lac;'   the   Malays    'bantam,'    'gamboge,'    'rattan,' 


sago.' 


The  growth  of  words  runs  parallel  with  the  unfold- 
ing of  a  nation's  life.  Every  addition  to  practical 
civilization,  every  scientific  generalization,  commerce 
in  all  its  branches,  foreign  literary  influence,  diplo- 
macy, religion,  philosophy,  sociology  are  the  per- 
petual agents  of  linguistic  increase. 

A  curious  law  attaches  to  the  origin  of  words  by 
which  they  are  forced  to  undergo  a  period  of  proba- 
tionship  before  they  receive  the  stamp  of  legal  cur- 
rency. Every  new  word  passes  through  an  embry- 
onic stage  previous  to  emerging  as  a  normal  member 
of  the  organism  of  speech,  and  perhaps  for  half  a  cen- 
tury or  more  finds  a  place  in  no  dictionary.  The 
advent  of  every  neologism  is  met  by  a  powerful  con- 
servatism opposing  the  innovation :  and  only  after  a 
severe  ordeal  does  it  raise  itself  to  a  place  in  the 
peerage  of  language.  With  its  emergence  in  the 
Dictionary  it  has  passed  the  grand  climacteric,  and 
may  henceforth  count  on  a  longer  or  shorter  lease  of 
life.  Thousands  of  words,  too,  make  their  debut  as 
slang — gipseys  and  outlaws  that  are  afterwards  re- 
claimed by  civilized  society.  And  it  is  curious  to 


The  Growth  of  Words.  281 

observe  how  many,  of  our  stateliest  terms  rest  on  some 
free  popular  idiom,  some  bandied  catch- word — spon- 
taneous creation  of  the  hour. 

In  the  Essays  of  Montaigne  there  is  a  vivid  illus- 
tration of  the  subtle  steps  by  which  words  often  find 
their  way  into  language.  In  order  to  facilitate  his 
acquisition  of  Latin,  then  the  common  speech  of  the 
learned,  he  was,  in  his  childhood,  allowed  no  other 
medium  of  communication ;  and  not  only  his  teachers, 
but  his  parents,  attendants,  and  even  his  nurse,  were 
obliged  to  learn  enough  Latin  to  converse  with  him 
in  it.  The  result  was,  as  he  tells  us,  that  the  peasants 
on  his  father's  estate,  and  gradually,  the  people  of  the 
neighboring  "villages,  adopted  many  of  the  Latin 
words  which  they  heard  constantly  used  in  the  family 
of  their  feudal  lord  ;  and,  writing  fifty  years  later,  he 
declares  that  these  words  had  become  permanently 
incorporated  into  the  dialect  of  the  province. 

'  Mob '  is  a  word  that  made  its  appearance  in  the 
English  language  in  the  time  of  Charles  II.  as  a  piece 
of  pure  slang,  and  I  have  already  quoted  from  the 
Spectator  characterizing  it  as  a  ridiculous  expression 
which  might  however  finally  make  its  way  into  our 
language !  How  long  did  *  bore '  struggle  to  main- 
tain its  hold !  It  expressed,  however,  a  positive  idea, 
not  otherwise  conveyed,  and  has  finally,  in  our  own 


282  Ramble  Eleventh. 

time,  won  its  way  into  the  Dictionary.  You  look  in 
vain  in  any  vocabulary  of  the  English  language  for 
4  sociology '  (creation  of  Auguste  Comte)  '  solidarity,' 
'  placer :'  they  are  all  most  valuable  contributions, 
however,  and  will  no  doubt  soon  receive  Dictionary- 
endorsement.  'Telegram'  again,  which  appears  in 
the  new  editions  of  the  English  dictionaries,  is  an 
example  of  how  an  imperious  necessity  will  force 
words  into  immediate  acceptance  and  recognition. 

The  French  contributions  to  our  language,  so  copi- 
ous and  rich,  were  never  more  important  than  they 
have  been  within  the  present  century.  Let  me  enu- 
merate some  that  we  have  received  within  that  period, 
with  others  that  look  a  little  farther  back.  I  shall 
give  such  as  suggest  themselves  to  my  mind,  without 
any  attempt  at  completeness. 

Accoucheur — Accouchement :  Valuable  contributions 
to  our  language,  and  now  getting  into  popular 
use. 

Attache :  A  diplomatic  term,  implying  one  attached  to 
the  suite  of  an  embassador,  and  now  creeping  into 
more  general  use.  Thus  we  speak  about  the 
attaches  of  a  reigning  belle. 

Au  fait:  "Posted  up" — up  to  the  mark,  having  an- 
off-hand  familiarity  with  the  matter  in  hand. 


The  Growth  of  Words.  283 

Badinage:  Half-earnest  jesting — a  delicate  modifica- 
tion of  raillery. 

Blase:  Past  participle  of  the  verb  Uaser,  to  surfeit, 
and  popularized  by  the  comedy  of  "  Used  Up." 

Bon-mot  or  simply  Mot:  Literally  a  good  word — a 
good  thing. 

Brochure:  A  pamphlet:  from  the  verb  brocher,  to 
stitch. 

Coup :  A  stroke  or  blow,  and  in  compounds  implies 
any  sudden  action.  The  compounds  are  very 
numerous,  coup-d*  etat,  coup-de-grace,  coup-de-main, 
coup-de-soleil,  coup-d"*  ceil,  coup-de-thedtre,  etc. 

Debris :  A  symbolism  from  Geology,  where  it  means 
masses  of  rock  etc.,  detached  by  attrition  or  me- 
chanical violence. 

Debut :  First  public  appearance.  Debutant,  Debutante, 
the  person  making  it. 

Elite :  The  flower — literally  the  elect  or  chosen. 

Employe :  A  word  of  the  greatest  utility  and  coming 
into  universal  use :  the  meaning  is  any  one  employed. 

Ennui:  Weariness,  sense  of  tedium. 

Ensemble:  The  totality  as  distinguished  from  the 
details.  A  noble  word  with  immense  vista. 

Facade:  Chief  frontage  of  a  building — a  term  bor- 
rowed from  the  French  architects. 

Gout:  Eelish,  aesthetic  taste. 


284  Ramble  Eleventh. 

Naive,  Naivete :  Most  desirable  words,  with  the  French 
elisive  charm,  and  implying  a  combination  of  the 
ingenuous,  candid,  winning. 

Nonchalance:  Cool  carelessness  and  indifference. 

Outre :  Etymologically  the  same  as  ultra  and  carrying 
with  it  the  sense  of  the  extravagant  and  grotesque. 

Passe :  A  term  whose  import  is  realized  with  tremen- 
dous force  by  ladies  of  a  certain  age.  En  passant, 
by  the  way. 

Penchant:  Inclination,  proclivity. 

Persiflage :  Light,  mocking  banter. 

Personnel:  Originally,  corps  of  persons  employed  in 
contradistinction  to  the  materiel;  but  now  coming 
to  mean,  also,  the  sum  of  characteristics  constituting 
one's  personality. 

Precis:  A  summary  or  abridgment.  A  valuable 
word. 

Prestige:  A  most  useful  word,  supplying  a  positive 
want  in  our  language.  The  original  meaning  was 
a  piece  of  smuggling  or  imposture ;  but  the  word 
now  bears  with  it  the  idea  of  the  presumption  which 
past  successes  beget  of  future  ones. 

Programme:  A  word  of  universal  use  in  America  in 
the  sense  of  a  printed  synopsis :  a  desirable  contri- 
bution, which  the  French  has  given  us,  taking  it 
from  the  Greek. 


The  Growth  of  Words.  285 

Protege:  One  under  the  patronage  or  protection  of 
another — Koman  clients. 

Rapport:  Implies,  in  French,  relation;  en  rapport,  in 
relation  with ;  and  used  in  English  to  convey  the 
idea  of  an  affinity  or  sympathy  of  sensation.  The 
word  owes  its  currency  to  our  modern  mesmeric 
and  "  Spiritual "  phenomena  and  philosophy. 

Redacteur :  An  editor,  compiler  etc.;  redaction,  the 
digesting  or  reducing  to  order  literary  or  scientific 
material. 

Renaissance:  Regeneration,  new  birth:  mainly  ap- 
plied to  the  revival  of  the  fine  arts,  but  susceptible 
of  any  breadth  of  application. 

Seance :  A  sitting,  applied  mostly  to  sittings  for  scien- 
tific purposes. 

Soiree:  A  word  early  adopted,  and  after  the  analogy 
of  which  we  have  more  recently  introduced  matinee. 


RAMBLE  TWELFTH. 

ENGLISH  IN  AMERICA. 

BY  a  combination  of  circumstances  the  English 
Language  became  the  speech  of  America.  There  was 
nothing  fortuitous  in  this.  For  English  is  eminently 
the  speech  of  the  Modern.  The  English  Language 
expresses  most  typically  those  tendencies  which  all 
show  more  or  less.  Into  the  make  of  the  English, 
more  than  any  other  idiom,  has  converged  the  spirit 
of  the  modern,  breaking  up  the  crystalline  structure  of 
the  classic  mould — the  splendid  newness,  the  aspira- 
tions of  freedom,  individualism,  democracy, 
i  Nurtured  by  the  influences  that  have  made  the 
English  nation,  the  English  Language  expresses  the 
infusions  from  all  these — expresses  aristocracy  and 
monarchy  among  the  rest.  Meanwhile  do  we  not 
feel  that  a  change  has,  these  eras,  passed  over  the  pri- 
vate spirit  of  man  ?  The  genius  of  a  new  age  broods, 
fiery  and  fecundating,  over  the  nations.  Authority 


English  in  America.  287 

tradition,  caste  go  hopelessly.  New  tests,  demands, 
verdicts  come,  disconcerting  the  old  decorums  in 
opinions,  manners,  literature.  Audacious  aspirations 
arise.  A  lofty  augury  beckons  on  to  new  cerebral 
and  spiritual  shores. 

A  speech  to  correspond!  These  oceanic  move- 
ments in  the  age  must  make  flood-tide  in  the  Lan- 
guage, also.  For  speech  moves  with  the  movements 
of  mind,  as  the  ocean  obeys  celestial  influences. 
Always  Language  is  incubated  by  the  mind  of  the 
ages.  Transported  to  the  new  and  vaster  arena  of 
America,  the  English  language  comes  under  the  con- 
ditions, outer  and  inner,  that  are  shaping  the  Ameri- 
can mind.  It  is  qualified  by  all  that  makes  American 
life — by  the  geographic  and  climatic  conditions,  by 
the  ethnology  of  America,  by  her  politics,  sociology, 
manners,  mentality. 

Of  course  the  English  Language  must  take  on  new 
powers  in  America.  And  here  we  are  favored  by 
the  genius  of  this  grand  and  noble  language,  which 
more  than  all  others  lends  itself  plastic  and  willing 
to  the  moulding  power  of  new  formative  influences. 
Was  it  supposed  that  the  English  Language  was 
finished  ?  But  there  is  no  finality  to  a  Language ! 
The  English  has  vast  vista  in  it — vast  vista  in 
America. 


288  Ramble  Twelfth. 

It  is  the  sum  of  the  uses  of  precedents,  to  a  live 
nation,  that  it  shall  match  the  same  with  better  from 
its  own  soul,  and  consume  them  before  its  audacious 
improvisations.  A  nation  cannot  live  on  reminis- 
cences: it  can  only  live  on  influx.  The  English 
Language,  expressing  the  genius  of  the  English  race 
and  its  culture  history,  thought,  is  still  inadequate  to 
the  utterance  of  America,  and  must  take  on  new  pro- 
portions before  it  can  become  the  living  garment 
of  this  new  life  of  humanity. 

The  future  expansions  of  the  English  Language  in 
America  are  already  marked  in  the  great  lines  of  de- 
velopment this  idiom  shows.  It  is  for  us  freely  to 
follow  the  divine  indications.  And  here  a  spinal 
fact  is  the  composite  character  of  our  language :  to 
what  new  realizations  is  it  lifted  in  America !  The 
immense  diversity  of  race,  temperament,  character — 
the  copious  streams  of  humanity  constantly  flowing 
hither — must  reappear  in  free,  rich  growths  of  speech. 
From  no  one  ethnic  source  is  America  sprung :  the 
electric  reciprocations  of  many  stocks  conspired  and 
conspire.  This  opulence  of  race-elements  is  in  the 
theory  of  America.  Land  of  the  Ensemble,  to  her 
the  consenting  currents  flow,  and  the  ethnology  of 
the  States  draws  the  grand  outline  of  that  hospitality 
and  reception  that  must  mark  the  new  politics,  soci- 
ology, literature  and  religion. 


English  in  America.  289 

Language,  too,  must  feel  this  influence.  And  this 
is  to  appear  not  merely  in  the  copious  new  verbal 
contributions  the  various  idioms  may  bring,  but  in 
the  entire  spirit  of  the  Language — moulded  more  and 
more  to  a  large  hospitality  and  impartiality.  The 
theory  of  English  scholars  and  literateurs,  for  hun- 
dreds of  years,  has  been  the  theory  of  repression. 
They  have  discouraged  and  cramped  the  spontaneous 
expansions  of  the  Language — discouraged  inocula- 
tions from  the  French,  from  Latin,  Greek,  Italian. 
What  pitiful  cant,  too,  does  one  hear  every  day  about 
Saxon  !  as  though  it  were  not  the  very  theory  of  the 
English  Language — the  very  genius  and  animus  of  it 
— to  take  its  food  from  all  sources !  This  ridiculous 
,  nonsense  is  to  be  utterlv  dismissed. 

v 

What  starvation  has  this  insane  purism  effected! 
What  a  poor,  indigent,  watery  affair  is  our  literary 
expression!  Books  cling  to  the  old  traditions  and 
timidities — no  full,  free,  utterance,  untrammeled, 
mystical :  no  influx,  no  abandonment.  Surely  the 
time  has  come  to  dismiss  this  old  impotence.  And 
what  means  arise  for  enriching  the  arsenal  of  expres- 
sion! What  new  creations  surge  and  swell  the 
ampler  currents  of  our  time!  New  thoughts,  new 
things,  all  unnamed !  Where  is  the  theory  of  literary 
expression  that  stands  for  the  new  politics  and  soci- 

13 


290  Ramble  Twelfth. 

ology  ?  that  puts  itself  abreast  the  vast  divine  tenden- 
cies of  Science  ?  that  absorbs  the  superb  suggestions 
of  the  Grand  Opera  ? 

I  can  see  but  one  limitation  to  the  theory  of  Words 
— the  theory  of  Things.  Is  it  for  us  who  are  borne 
on  the  billowy  tides  of  this  new  humanity  to  limit  the 
unfolding  opulence  of  God — to  put  a  girdle  round  the 
widening  future  of  our  civilization  and  our  speech  ? 
Freely,  then,  may  the  American  literat  proceed  to 
quarry  and  build  in  the  architecture  of  the  English 
Language.  Of  course  the  conditions  of  this  free  ex- 
pressive activity  are  high.  To  him  who  would 
mould  our  language  must  go  many  qualities — must 
go  large  knowledge  of  the  philosophy  of  speech,  must 
go  rich  aesthetic  instincts,  among  the  rest. 

The  sources  of  future  enrichings  of  the  Anglican 
speech  are  the  same  old  fountains.  In  our  native 
roots,  in  the  plastic  forms  of  the  antique,  in  the  noble 
modern  idioms  are  the  magazines  of  word-wealth. 
How  much  has  the  French  language  been  to  English ! 
How  much  has  it  yet  to  give !  Nation  of  sublime 
destinies,  noble,  naive,  rich  with  humanity,  bearers 
of  freedom,  upholding  on  her  shoulders  the  history 
of  Europe  for  a  thousand  years  !  The  Italian  gifts, 
too,  direct  and  indirect,  are  not  nothing  to  America. 
Spain  is  not  nothing.  How  much  they  have  to  con- 


English  in  America.  291 

tribute — Italy  with  her  rich  and  rosy  nature,  her  grand 
style  of  music  and  consummate  intuitions  of  art; 
Spain,  so  noble,  so  proud,  so  much  to  manners,  to 
behavior !  I  would  not  underrate  the  German  and 
Scandinavian  influences — mighty  race,  spiritual,  as- 
piring, individual,  melancholy,  prudent. 

The  flower  and  aroma  of  a  Nation  is  its  Language. 
The  conditions  of  a  grand  language  are  a  grand  life. 
For  words  are  metaphysical  beings,  and  draw  of  the 
life  of  the  mind.  Not  in  these  wondrous  hieroglyphs 
of  Words,  not  in  these  mystic  runes,  is  the  power :  in 
the  Mind  which  loads  these  airy  messengers  with  bur- 
dens of  meaning  is  the  vis  and  vivification  of  speech. 
Over  the  transformations  of  a  Language  the  genius  of 
a  nation  unconsciously  presides — the  issues  of  Words 
represent  issues  in  the  national  thought.  And  in  the 
vernal  seasons  of  a  nation's  life  the  formative  energy 
puts  forth  verbal  growths  opulent  as  flowers  in  spring 


INDEX. 


Abandon,    242,    263, 

Andrew  Farrara,!  215. 

Auricular,  251. 

(note). 

Anemone,  59. 

Aurora^  57.  ^      . 

Absurd,  8.  "A 

;Angel,  174. 

Auspicious,  15.  A 

Abundance,  32. 

Animadvert,  196. 

Author,  105. 

Academy,  202. 

Animosity,  194. 

Azure,  279. 

Accommodate,  163. 

Annoyance,  41. 

Accouchement,  282. 

Anointed,  258. 

Bacchanalian,  202. 

Accoucheur,  282. 

Anon,  105. 

Back,  223. 

Acre,  43. 

Antagonist,  243. 

Bacon,  222. 

Acuteness,  21. 

Anthropophaginiau, 

Bad,  184. 

Adieu,  108. 

154. 

Badinage,  283. 

^Esthetic,  251. 

Antique  Henry,  262. 

Bag  and  Nails,  160. 

Affable,  104,  264. 

Apathy,  21. 

Baker,  220. 

Affront,  45. 

Apollo,  214. 

Balderdash,  167. 

Agreeable,  181. 

Apothecary,  227. 

Bamboozle,  167. 

Ajax,  163. 

Aqua  Vitse,  168. 

Ban,  184  (note). 

Album,  104. 

Aquiline,  251. 

Bandit,  263  (note). 

Alcohol,  279. 

Arras,  214. 

Banish,  263. 

Alcoran,  261. 

Arrowsmith,  220. 

Bane,  184  (note). 

Alderman,  81. 

Artifice,  233. 

Bans,  263. 

Alembic,  279. 

Ascendant,  61. 

Bantam,  280. 

Algebra,  279. 

Ass,  149. 

Barbarian,  126. 

Alkali,  279. 

Astonish,  42. 

Barnburner,  131. 

Almanach,  279. 

Astral,  249. 

Barnum,  207. 

Ambrosia,  67. 

Atlas,  202. 

Bayonet,  214. 

Ambrosial,  67.*^. 

Attache,  282-. 

Bazaar,  279. 

Amen,  279. 

Attention,  57. 

Bead,  238. 

Amiable,  247. 

Auditory,  251. 

Bead-roll,  238. 

Amical,  247. 

Auburn,  103. 

Beastliness,  149. 

Amuck,  279. 

Aufait,  282. 

Bear,  132,  242. 

294 


Index. 


Beer.  219. 

Brumal,  249. 

Causeries,  106. 

Beldame,  127. 

Brunt,  65. 

Caustic,  25. 

Benevolent,  198. 

Brydges,  219. 

Cemetery,  72. 

Bernard,  225. 

Buck,  149. 

XaiOE,    108. 

Beshrew,  119  (npte). 

Buck,  222. 

Chalmers,  221. 

Belhaim,  72. 

Bull  and  Mouth,  160. 

Chancellor,  221. 

Bible,  261. 

Bullock,  222. 

Character,  183. 

Biche,  132  (note). 

Bumpkin,  129. 

Charlatan,  129,  278. 

Biscuit,  105.X 

Burgundy,  214. 

Charles,  115  (note). 

Bishop,  221. 

Burns,  219. 

Charm,  63. 

Bitch,  120. 

Butcher,  220,  227. 

Charter-house,  160. 

Black,  222. 

Butler,  220,  239. 

Chartist,  98. 

Blackguard,  17,  112. 

By  cock  and  pye,  136. 

Chase,  219. 

Blackleg,  129. 

By  hook  or  by  crook, 

Chattel,  87. 

Black-Republican, 

166. 

Chevalier  d1  Industrie, 

131. 

By'r  lady,  135. 

46. 

Blanch,  239. 

By'r  lakin,  136. 

Chez-nous,  106. 

Blase,  283. 

By  the  dog!  134. 

Childish,  246. 

Blockhead,  130. 

By  the  Lord,  136. 

Childlike,  245. 

Blood,  223. 

By  these  pickers  and 

China,  279. 

Bloody,  247. 

stealers,  136. 

Chintz,  280. 

Botteau.  222. 

By  these    ten  bones, 

Chit-chat,  169. 

Bold,  242 

136. 

Chivalry,  93. 

Bombast,  38. 

By  Yea  and  Nay,  136. 

Chocolate,  279. 

Booby,  129. 

Chosen,  242. 

Boor,  115. 

Cabala,  279. 

Chouse,  204. 

Bones,  223. 

Cadger,  151, 

Christen,  205. 

Bon  Gout,  25. 

Cain-colored,  208. 

Churl,  115. 

Bonheur,  61. 

Caitiff,  130. 

Church,  219. 

Bon-mot,  283. 

Calamity,  68. 

Cinque-Ports,  144. 

Bonnet,  239. 

Calculate,  44. 

Circumspection,  21. 

Bore,  129,  281. 

Calico,  214,  280. 

Circumvent,  262. 

Bowey,  207. 

Can,  50. 

Clannish,  181. 

Bow-wow,  169. 

Candor,  15,  34. 

Clarke,  221. 

Boyish,  246. 

Canine,  249. 

Clergie,  95. 

Boyism,  246. 

Cant,  129. 

Clerk,  94. 

Brass,  167. 

Cap,  239. 

Close-fisted,  167. 

Brave,  242. 

Cape  of  Good  Hope, 

Clothier,  226. 

Bravo,  107,  278. 

51. 

Clown,  8.   ^ 

Brewer,  219. 

Capillary,  249. 

Coat,  240. 

Brigand,  127. 

Capricious,  173.  T- 

Cobalt,  60. 

Briggs,  219. 

Caravan,  279. 

Cockade,  170. 

Brochure,  283. 

Cardiac,  248. 

Codger,  151. 

Brooks,  219. 

Carpenter,  220. 

Coffin,  219. 

Brow-beat,  36. 

Carter,  220. 

Cognac,  214. 

Brown,  222. 

Cat,  120. 

Collier,  220. 

Brown  study,  170. 

Cater,  47. 

Comfort,  181. 

Index. 


Commensurate;  261. 
Commerage,  49. 
Compassion,  199. 
Comply,  155. 
Companion,  90. 
Comrades,  102.      , 
Con,  157. 
Con  amore,  278. 
Conceit,  196. 
Concetti,  107. 
Concise,  244. 
Conductitious,  259. 
Coney-catch,  148. 
Confiscate,  43  (note). 
Congregation,  261. 
Connive,  262. 
Consider,  60. 
Convenient.  264. 
Convivial,  180. 
Convolvulus,  59. 
Cooper,  220. 
Coral,  60. 
Cordial,  37,  248. 
Cordwainer,  214. 
Coroner,  106. 
Corsair,  116. 
Cosier,  226. 
Countryman,  241. 
Coup,  283. 
Coup-d'etat,  283. 
Coup-de-grace,  283. 
Coup-de-main,  283. 
Coup-de-soleil,  283. 
Coup-de-theatre,  283. 
Courteous,  264. 
Coward,  123,  150. 
Coxcomb,  149. 
Coz,  157. 
Crabbe,  222. 
Crafty,  196. 
Craggs,  219. 
Crane,  222. 
Cravat,  212. 
Craven,  104,  123. 
Credit,  198. 
Cremona,  214. 
Crime.  178. 


Crone,  119.                     Deuce  (the)!  133. 

Crony,  119. 

Device,  233. 

Crookshanks,  223. 

Devoir,  276. 

Crudity,  24. 

Dexterity,  34.7\ 

Crusades,  92, 

Diadem,  42. 

Cuckold,  150. 

Diary,  256. 

Cunning,  50,  196. 

Dickens  (the)  !  133. 

Cupidity,  194,  242. 

Dictum,  262. 

Cur,  120. 

Disaster,  61.>. 

Curfew,  88. 

Disgust,  24. 

Curmudgeon,  128. 

Distaste,  24. 

Currants,  214.)r 

Diurnal,  256. 

Currier,  227. 

Do.,  157. 

Curry,  280. 

Doff  or  don,  157. 

Cyclops,  59. 

Dogma,  195. 

Dogmatical,  195. 

Dahlia,  203. 

Dollar,  215. 

Daisy,  59. 

Dolt,  128. 

Damask,  214. 

Domestic,  251. 

Dame,  127  (note). 

DonnerundTeufel,  134. 

Dandelion,  105. 

Donner   und    Slitzen, 

Dandy,  191. 

134. 

DastaVd,  123. 

Domineer,  262. 

Dead-letter,  168. 

Doolittle,  222. 

Dean,  144. 

Doughface,  131. 

Death,  223. 

Douay  (Bible),  215. 

Debauch,  39. 

Drachm,  43. 

Debate,  41. 

Dragoman,  279. 

Debris,  283. 

Drinkwater,  222. 

Debut,  283. 

Droit,  185. 

Debutant,  283. 

Drab,  129. 

Debonair,  105,  276. 

Drape,  226. 

Decease,  72. 

Dunce,  203. 

Decency,  179. 

Duty,  197. 

Decent,  18. 

Dyers,  219. 

Decore,  179. 

Decorous,  179. 

Earle,  221. 

Ac™,  44. 

Earnest,  181. 

Deliberation,  14. 

Earthly,  248. 

Delirium,  39. 

Earthling,  237. 

Demise,  72. 

East,  219,  242. 

Demon,  63. 

Eau  de  vie,  168. 

Demure,  35. 

Eccentric,  243. 

Dental,  251. 

Edgar,  225. 

Desert,  242. 

Edward,  226. 

Designing,  196. 

Eel,  219. 

Desire,  242. 

Egad  and  all  that,  165. 

296 


Index. 


Egg  on,  167. 

Fervor,  32. 

Gasconade,  211. 

Egregious,  37. 

Fetishism,  278. 

Gauls,  213. 

Elbow,  251. 

Fie,  243  (note). 

Gazette,  96,  278. 

Electricity,  104. 

Field,  219. 

General,  250. 

Elegant,  242. 

Fiend,  243  (note). 

Generous,  182. 

Eleemosynary,  252. 

FiLle  de  Joie,  46. 

Genteel,  182.' 

Elite.  283. 

Finesse,  223. 

Gentile,  182. 

Elixir,  279. 

Fire-eater,  131. 

Gentle,  181. 

Emolument,  85. 

Fiscal.  15.  43. 

Ghost,  63. 

Emperor,  221. 

Fisher,  219,  220.  / 

Giaours,  125. 

Encounter,  45. 

Flay,  66. 

Gifford,  222. 

Ennui,  283. 

Fletcher,  220. 

Ginger,  167. 

Ensemble,  283. 

Flim-flam,  169. 

Glacial,  249. 

Envy,  21. 

Flint,  223. 

Godwin,  226. 

Enthusiasm,  39. 

Flv,  222. 

Goldsmith,  220. 

Epicier,  113. 

Flunkev,  113, 

Good,  184. 

Epicure,  202. 

Foe,  243. 

Goodenough,  222. 

Equine,  251. 

Foh,  243  (note). 

Good-bye,  108. 

Erratic,  243. 

Fold,  219. 

Gordian,  202.  ~> 

Error,  186. 

Foresight,  241. 

Gosling,  223. 

Esprit.  1-06. 

Forest,  219. 

Gospel  64. 

Essential,  250. 

Forget-me-not,  59. 

-Gossip,  48. 

Ethical,  186. 

Fortnight,  249  (note). 

Go  the  whole  hog,  167. 

Etiquette,  170. 

Forty  e,  223. 

Goths,  212. 

Euphuism.  154. 

Forlorn-hope,  51. 

Gouk,  150  (note). 

Exaggeration,  40. 

Forward,  195. 

Goftt,  284. 

Exile,  263. 

Fowler,  220. 

Grand,  4. 

Extenuate,  33. 

Foxglove,  101. 

Grange,  219. 

Eye,  20. 

Fractious,  35. 

Grwcari,  211. 

Frank,  211. 

Gramercy,  135. 

Facade,  283. 

Franklin,  221. 

Graves,  219. 

Falconer,  220. 

Free,  211. 

Grandee,  46. 

Fame,  183. 

Freeman,  222. 

Grey,  222. 

Fanatic,  17. 

Friar,  276  (note). 

Grocer,  227. 

Fancy,  27. 

Friendlv,  247. 

Grotesque,  169. 

Fantastical,  27. 

Frost,  223. 

Grove,  219. 

Farce,  95. 

Frown,  36. 

Gudgeon,  150. 

Farrier,  226. 

Frugal,  15. 

Guild,  177  (note). 

Farthing,  223. 

Fudge,  204. 

Guillotine,  206. 

Farthingale,  160. 

Furlong,  43. 

Guilt,  177. 

Farewell,  108. 

Fustian,  38. 

Guinea,  215. 

Fascination,  63. 

Gull,  148. 

Fast,  167. 

Gaillard,  276. 

Gust,  235. 

Faugh,  243  (note). 

Gallant,  46. 

Gustatory,  251. 

Feline,  251. 

Galvanism,  202. 

Gusto,  21. 

Felon,  80. 

Gamboge,  280. 

Feminine,  245. 

Gas,  63  (note). 

<H,'  159. 

Index. 


297 


Haberdasher,  141. 

Hood-wink,  167. 

Inoculation,  97. 

Hag,  119. 

Hopper,  220. 

Insinuate,  34. 

Hail,  223. 

Horace,  158. 

Insipid,  25. 

Hair-brained,  129. 

Horoscope,  61. 

Insolence,  179. 

Halcyon  Days,  65. 

Horse,  120. 

Interlard,  141. 

Hale,  69. 

Host,  256. 

Intoxicate,  168. 

Hallelujah,  279. 

Hostile,  256. 

Intrepid,  242. 

Handy,  263. 

House,  219. 

Intuition,  28. 

Happy,  193. 

Hubbub,  169. 

Inuendo,  168. 

Hard  Shell,  131. 

Hule,  223. 

Invidious,  28. 

Harmless,  177. 

Humble,  250. 

Iranian,  269  (note). 

Hart,  222. 

Humbug,  192. 

Ire,  242. 

Harum-scarum,  169. 

Humility,  192.  X 

Haughtiness,  46. 
Hauteur,  46. 
Hawk,  150. 
Hawker,  151,  220. 
Head,  223. 

Humor,  106,  161. 
Hunker,  131. 
Hunter,  220. 
Hurly-burly,  169. 
Hurricane,  235. 

Jackanapes,  129. 
Japan,  214. 
Jaundice,  104. 
Jay,  222. 

Heady,  239. 
Health,  69. 
Heart,  223. 
Hearty,  37,  248. 

Husband,  81  (note). 
Hussy,  128. 
Hut,  239. 
Hypocrite,  99. 

Jeopardy,  95. 
Jesuit,  206. 
Jesuitical,  207 

Heaven,  8. 
Hectoring,  203. 
Helots,  210. 
Helter-skelter,  169. 
Herculean,  202. 
Heretic,  124. 
Hermetic,  202. 
Heron,  222. 
Herring,  222. 
Hidalgo,  181. 
Higgledy-piggledy, 

Hyperborean,  58. 
Hypoes,  167. 
Hypothesis,  261. 

Idea,  28. 
Idiot,  117.X 
Igneous,  249. 
Ignoramus,  146. 
Ill-starred,  61. 
Imbecile,  37. 
Immolate,  85. 

Jolly,  107.  ' 
Jouissance,  276. 
Journal,  255. 
Journey,  108,  255. 
Jovial,  61. 
Jubilee,  279. 
Judas-colored,  208. 
Jumper,  220. 
Junto,  128. 
Just,  185. 

-  169. 

Imp,  63,  126. 

Highness,  46. 

Impertinent,  193. 

Ken,  50. 

Hill,  219. 

Imposter,  127. 

Kickshaw,  144. 

Hoax,  146. 

Incantation,  63. 

Kind,  182. 

Hob  or  nob,  157. 

Incog,  157. 

King,  81,  221. 

Hocus-pocus,  16,  145. 

Inculcate,  170.7^ 

Kingly,  242. 

Hodge-podge,  169. 

Indolence,  180. 

Knave,  113. 

Hogg,  222. 

Infant,  104. 

Knavish,  113. 

Holland,  214. 

Infantile,  246. 

Knight,  93. 

Holmes,  219. 

Infantine,  246. 

Knock  under,  167. 

Home,  106. 

Infidel,  125. 

Knowing,  196. 

Honesty,  179,  256. 

In  fine,  sir,  165. 

Knowles,  219. 

Honey-moon,  166. 

Influence,  61.  v~ 

Know-nothing,  131. 

Honnete,  179. 

Innocence,  177. 

Kosmos,  65. 

298 


Index. 


Labial,  251. 

Mandragora,  121. 

Morrow,  58. 

Lac,  280. 

Mandrake,  120. 

Mors,  72. 

Laconic,  212. 

Manger,  104. 

Mortified,  42. 

Lamb,  149. 

Manly,  198. 

Mose,  206. 

Law,  185. 

Manual.  249. 

Moss,  219. 

Lawyer,  220 

Marriage.  237. 

Mot,  283. 

Leave,  242. 

Marsh,  219. 

Mountain,  219. 

Legend,  47. 

Martial,  61. 

Mountebank,  148. 

Lemon,  223. 

Mason,  220. 

Mouse,  132. 

Lethe,  58. 

Mausoleum,  202. 

Mumpsimus,  146. 

Levant,  58,  242. 

Maxim.  47. 

Mundane,  248. 

Lewd,  114 

Mayor,  221. 

Muscle,  150. 

Libel,  47.  A' 

Mealy-mouthed,  167. 

Muslin,  215. 

Liberal,  262. 

Mean,  115,  181. 

Myriad,  43. 

Libertine,  194. 

Medullary,  251. 

Myrtle,  223. 

Lieutenant,  104,  238. 

Meek,  222. 

Lion,  149. 

Meeting,  45. 

Naive,  284. 

Lively,  246, 

Menstruum,  102. 

Naivete,  284. 

Loco-foco,  131,  141. 

Mental,  250. 

Nankeen,  214,  280. 

Lointain,  276. 

Mercurial,  61. 

Nasal,  250. 

Longfellow,  222. 

Methodist,  130. 

Nasty,  21. 

Longman,  222. 

Mesmerism,  202. 

Natal,  251. 

Longshanks,  223. 

Messiah,  279. 

Nature,  54. 

Loose,  191. 

Metaphysical,  261. 

Natural,  128. 

Loose-fish,  130. 

Mill,  219. 

Ne'er-do-weel,  116. 

Lord,  221. 

Miller,  220. 

Negro,  103. 

Lose,  191. 

Mitte  tonneres,  134 

Negus,  203. 

Loss,  191. 

Minion,  194. 

Nervous,  49. 

Lout,  129. 

Minister,  105. 

News,  141. 

Lowndes,  219. 

Misanthropist,  198. 

Night-mare,  140. 

Luggage,  168. 

Miscreants,  125. 

NiM,  143  (note). 

Lunatic,  102,  238. 

Miser,  8,  190. 

Nincompoop,  128. 

Lust,  194,  242. 

Misery,  193. 

Ninny,  128.^- 

Lyceum.  41. 

Misericorde,  276. 

Noble,  181,  222. 

Lynch,  207. 

Mob,  98,  157,  281. 

Nocturnal,  249. 

Lyon,  222. 

Moccasin,  279. 

Nonchalance,  284. 

Modest,  179. 

Non-plus,  141. 

Macadamize,  203. 

Momentous,  262. 

North,  219. 

Macdonald,  224. 

Moneypenny,  223. 

Nose,  20. 

Machiavelism,  206. 

Monster,  129,  180. 

Nostrum,  16,  148. 

Main,  58. 

Month,  102. 

Not     a    straw,     143 

Magnate,  46. 

Moonshine,  102. 

(note). 

Magnet,  215. 

Moral,  186. 

Novel,  244 

Magnificent,  46. 

Mordant,  25. 

Nuisance,  41. 

Majesty,  46.                 "• 

*Moru,  58. 

Numskull,  130. 

Malevolent,  198. 

Morning  Glory,  59. 

Nuncle,  157. 

Malheur,  61. 

Morose,  35. 

Index. 


299 


Objective,  279. 

Parlor,  254. 

Pilgrim,  92,  221. 

Obs.  and  sols.,  151. 

Parsons,  219. 

Piquant,  25. 

Obsequies,  48. 

Passe,  284. 

Pithy,  244. 

Obsequious,  48. 

Pasquin,  207. 

Pitt,  219. 

Obvious,  34.^ 

Patavinity,  212 

Pity,  253. 

Occident,  58. 

Patois,  212. 

Placer,  282. 

Ocean,  202. 

Patron,  254. 

Plagiary,  84. 

Ocular,  251. 

Pattern,  254. 

Plague,  40. 

Odd's  death!  134. 

Peasant,  241. 

Platonic,  202. 

Officious,  195. 

Pease,  223. 

Plough,  279. 

Ogres,  212. 

Pectoral,  251. 

Poltroon,  122. 

Olfactory,  250. 

Peculate,  86. 

Powder,  37 

0  Lord,  sir,  165. 

Peculiar,  86. 

Poole,  219. 

Omnibus,  104. 

Pecuniary,  15,  85. 

Pope,  221. 

Once,  223. 

Pedal,  251. 

Portmanteau,  104. 

On  the  anvil,  106. 

Pedler,  227. 

Port,  214. 

On  the  carpet,  106. 

Peel,  223. 

Potato,  279. 

Out-Herod  Herod,  142. 

He/tirstrOat,  44. 

Potent,  262. 

On  tick,  141. 

Penchant,  284. 

Powell,  225. 

Opponent,  243. 

Penetrability,  258. 

Pragmatical,  195. 

Optic,  251. 

Penny,  223.                ^ 

••Prayer,  238. 

Ordeal,  78. 

•Pensive,  180,  239 

Precipitancy,  34. 

Orient,  58,  242. 

n^™,  44. 

Precis,  284. 

Orrery,  203. 

Pepper,  223. 

..Precocious,  34,v 

Outre,  284. 

Peremptory,  42. 

Prejudice,  193". 

Perdy,  135. 

Premature,  34. 

Pagan,  115. 

Pernicious,  41. 

Preposterous,  141. 

Palate,  24. 

Perspicuous,  20. 

Presbyterian,  82. 

Palaver,  278. 

Pert,  40. 

Prestige, 

Pale,  within  and  with- 

Peterson, 225. 

Prevaricate,  38.  v; 

out  the,  143. 

Petrified,  50. 

Priest,  219. 

Palmer,  92,  221. 

Pettifogger,  129. 

Primrose,  59. 

Palmy,  66. 

Petty,  46. 

Prince,  221. 

Pamper,  44. 

Phantasm,  27. 

Prison,  105. 

Pander,  206. 

Phantasy,  27. 

Pritchard,  225. 

Pantheist,  39. 

Phantom,  27. 

Privilege,  105.->- 

Paper,  104. 

Phase,  27. 

Pro,  157. 

Papouse,  279. 

Phenomena,  27. 

Probity,  192. 

Paradise,  43. 

Philanthropist,  198. 

Profligate,  191. 

Paramour,  46. 

Philippic,  202. 

Programme,  284. 

Parasite,  100. 

Phren,  26. 

Promethean,  202. 

'Par  bleu,  134. 

Physic,  233. 

Property,  254. 

Parchment,  215. 

Pickle,  167. 

Propinquity,  258. 

Pardon,  262. 

Picts,  209. 

Proprietary,  259. 

Parish,  219. 

Pierrie,  276. 

Propriety,  254. 

Park,  219. 

Piety,  253. 

Protege,  285. 

Parliament,  254. 

Pike,  222. 

Providence,  27,  241. 

300 


Index. 


Prudence,  241. 

Reeve,  221. 

Rubbish,  129. 

Puerile,  246: 

Reflect,  36. 

Rubric,  103. 

Pug,  157. 

Refraining,  33. 

Ruby,  103. 

Pulmonary,  251. 

Regal,  242. 

Ruffian,  129. 

Punctilious,  262. 

Regard,  28. 

Ruin,  37. 

Punic  faith,  212. 

Regular.  186. 

Rule  the  roost,  167. 

Purgatory,  104 

Relish,  25. 

Run  amuck,  167. 

Puritan,  130. 

Reluctance,  41. 

Rustic,  115,  241. 

Puritan   names,    223, 

Remorse,  192. 

224. 

Renaissance,  285. 

'S,'  159. 

Rendez-vous,  104. 

Sabbath,  279. 

Quaker,  131. 

Renown,  183. 

Safe,  252. 

Quandary,  16,  145. 

Reor,  22. 

Safety,  252. 

Quantity,  262. 

Repugnance,  41. 

Sage,  223. 

Quarantine,  144.  X 

Reputation,  183. 

Sago,  280. 

Quarrel,  45. 

Resentment,  195. 

Salaam,  108. 

Queen,  120. 

Resist,  262. 

Salary,  85. 

Quiddits,  147. 

Respect,  28. 

Sallust,  158. 

Quidity,  147. 

Respectable,  28. 

Salutary,  248. 

Quidnuncs,  147. 

Restorateur,  104. 

Salvation,  253. 

Quillets,  167. 

Revealed,  29. 

Salve,  108. 

Quixotic,  206. 

Reverend,  47. 

Salt,  above  and  below 

Quiz,  167. 

Rhyming    to     death, 

the,  143. 

Quodlibets,  147. 

151. 

Sanctimonious,  196. 

Quorums,  147. 

Ribald,  204. 

Sands,  219. 

Rich,  167. 

Sandwich,  203. 

'  R,'  159. 

Riff-raff,  169. 

Sanguine,  247. 

Racy,  25. 

Right,  184. 

Sanguinary,  248. 

Radical,  98,  250. 

Ritto,  185. 

Sansculotte,  98. 

Rage,  242. 

Rival,  8,  90. 

Sapience,  25. 

Rajpoot,  214. 

Robe,  43. 

Sarcasm,  66. 

Rank,  21. 

Robert,  226. 

Sardonic  (laugh),  88. 

Rapport,  825. 

Robustious,  196. 

Saucy,  25. 

Rapscallion,  130. 

Rodomontade,  203. 

Satire,  66. 

Rascal,  16,  111. 

Rogue,  131. 

Saturnine,  61. 

Rational,  250. 

Roguish,  132. 

Saunter,  15,  92. 

Rationalism,  195. 

Romance,  78. 

Savage.  115. 

Rattan,  280. 

Rondeur,  276. 

Savory,'  25. 

Ravenous,  150. 

Rooke,  222. 

Saxon,  208. 

Real,  27,  250. 

Rosary,  104. 

Scamp,  130. 

Recherche,  242. 

Rosemary,  159. 

Scandal,  34. 

Recipe,  104. 

Rosicrucian,  101. 

Scape-grace,  129. 

Rectitude,  186. 

Rostrum.  170. 

Scarlet,  279. 

Red,  157. 

Roue,  129. 

Sceptre,  43. 

Redacteur,  285. 

Roundheads,  131. 

School,  93. 

Redaction,  285. 

Royal,  242. 

Schooner,  279. 

Reed,  222. 

Rub-a-dub,  169. 

Schuld,  178. 

Index. 


301 


Scruple,  33. 

Sociology,  282. 

Subtle,  8. 

Scotland,  213. 

Soft  Shell,  131. 

Suitable,  263. 

Scots,  209. 

Soiree,  285. 

Sun,  222. 

Scoundrel,  8,  123.  7^ 

Solar,  249. 

Supercilious.  33. 

Scurrility,  129. 

Sole,  223. 

Superfluity,  261. 

Seance,  285. 

Solidarity,  282. 

Supernatural,  261 

Sedate,  35. 

Solomon,  206. 

Supine,  35. 

Seer,  29. 

Sophist,  195. 

Suppliance,  35. 

Select,  242. 

Sordid,  191. 

Support,  242. 

Senate,  82. 

Sore,  191. 

Supposition,  261. 

Se'night,  249  (note). 

Sorrow,  191. 

Surloin,  105. 

Sense,  23. 

South,  219. 

Surprise,  205. 

Senses,  to  be  out  of, 

Sparrow-grass,  160. 

Surd,  36. 

22. 

Specious,  262. 

Surveyor,  262. 

Sensible,  21. 

Speculation,  27. 

Suspense,  14. 

Sensual,  23,  196. 

Spell,  64. 

Suspicion,  33. 

Sensuous,  196. 

Spencer,  203,  221. 

Sustain,  261. 

Septembrist,  98. 

Spicy,  25. 

Sweet,  222. 

Serenade,  68. 

Spinster,  83. 

Sweet  William,  59. 

Serious,  15. 

Spire,  219. 

Swift,  222. 

Sermon,  262. 

Spleen,  106. 

Sycophant,  8,  100. 

Severe,  180. 

Splendidious,  153. 

Sylvan,  249. 

Sexton,  227. 

Spoil,  87. 

Symmetrical,  261. 

Shabby,  105. 

Squire,  221. 

Sympathy,  199. 

Sheepishness,  149. 

Staidness,  35. 

Synagogue,  261. 

Shepherd,  220. 

Star,  222. 

Shrew,  119. 

Stationer,  227. 

Tabernacle,  43. 

Shrewd,  119  (note). 

Staves-acre,  160. 

Tact,  20. 

Shrove-tide,  105. 

Steele,  223. 

Taboo,  279. 

Siderial,  249. 

Sterling,  215. 

Tailor,  226. 

Sign-manual,  91. 

Sterne,  222. 

Tale,  243. 

Silly,  128. 

Steward,  238. 

Tandem,  174. 

Sincere,  7. 

Stickler.  124. 

Tangible.  21. 

Sinister,  34.  >C 

Stigma,'  40.  N 

Tantalize,  202. 

Six,  223.              , 

Stigmatize,  40. 

Tariff,  215. 

Skipper,  220. 

Stiletto,  66. 

Tartar,  212. 

Slave,  209. 

Stone,  223. 

Taste,  20. 

Slip-s^p,  169. 

Storm,  235. 

Tasty,  251. 

Sloop,  279. 

Story,  194,  244. 

Tawdry,  121. 

Slubberdegullion,  130, 
153.  * 

Stout,  222. 
Stratagem,  233. 

Taylor,  220. 
Tea,  279. 

Small,  222. 

Street,  219. 

Teetotalism,  141. 

Smeared,  258. 

Strong,  222. 

Telegram,  282. 

Smell-feast,  130. 

Study,  181. 

Tell-tales,  193. 

Smith,  220. 

__          _v  * 

Stupendous,  40. 

Tempest,  235. 

Snotl  113. 

Style,  66. 

Ten,  44  (note). 

Snow,  223. 

Subjective,  279. 

Terminus,  202. 

302 


Index. 


Terrestrial,  248. 

Trick,  233. 

Vulgar,  114. 

Testv,  239. 

True,  188. 

Vulgate,  114. 

Theory,  27. 

Truth,  187. 

Thickskull,  130. 

Tulip,  279. 

Wanton,  117. 

Thought,  22. 

Turban,  279. 

Ware,  80. 

Thoughtful,  239. 

Turk,  211. 

Warp,  222. 

Throne,  43. 

Turkey,  214 

Wayward,  243. 

Tiger,  149. 

Tutor,  105. 

Weal,  87  (note). 

Tin,  167. 

Twice,  223. 

Wealth,  86. 

Tip-top,  169. 

Web,  82. 

Tobacco,  279. 

Umbrage,  ?.: 

Webster,  220. 

To  act,  99. 

Umbilical,  251. 

Wedding,  237. 

To  caper,  150. 

Undine,  64. 

Welkin,  65. 

To  care  a  fig,  143. 
To  cow,  150. 

Uncouth,  81  (note). 
Upright,  186. 

Well,  87. 
Welsh  names,  225. 

To  cower,  150. 

Usquebaugh,  168. 

West,  219. 

To  crow,  149. 

Usury,  194. 

Whew!  133. 

To  curry  favor,  168. 

Whig,  130. 

To  gad,  149. 

Vaccine,  251. 

White,  222. 

To  bark,  149. 

Vagabond,  115. 

Whiten,  239. 

To  play  fox,  149. 

Vagrant,  116. 

Whitman,  222. 

To    sow    one's    wild 

Vale,  108. 

Wife,  16.  82. 

oats,  168. 

Valet.  113  (note). 

Wigwam,  279. 

Toe,  223. 

Valor,  179. 

Wild,  36. 

Toilet,  42. 

Vandals,  212. 

William,  226. 

Tolerate,  242. 
Tontine,  203. 

Vanity,  18,  190. 
Varlet,  113  (note). 

Witch,  101. 
Wits,  to  be  out  of,  22 

Tornado,  235. 
Tort,  185  (note). 
Torto,  185  (note). 
Tortuous,  186. 

Vaunting,  190. 
Very,  245. 
Viands,  44. 
Villain,  115. 

Wizard,  101. 
Womanly,  245. 
Woodcock,  149. 
Worldly,  248. 

Tory,  130. 

Virgil,  158. 

Worship,  17,  79. 

Tower,  219. 

Virtu,  179. 

Wrath,  242. 

Tractable,  32,  35. 

Virtue,  179. 

Wretch,  117. 

Traduce,  194. 

Virtuoso,  278. 

Wrong,  7,  185. 

Transgression,  32,  186 
Transient,  53. 

Visionary,  27. 
Visual,  251. 

Yacht,  279. 
Yankee,  279. 

Travail,  107. 
Travel  107.     • 
Tree,  209,  223. 

Vital,  247. 
Vitreous,  249. 
Vixen,  17,  120. 

Yearning,  181. 
Yeoman,  221. 

Trenchant,  262. 

Volcano,  202. 

Zero,  279. 

Trencher-friend,  130. 

Voluntary,  250. 

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